Now and Then
by Miss Late Bloomer
Summary: What happens when Coraline resists a chance at true revenge out of love? What happens when Beth searches for answers on Josef's behalf and sparks fly? Also, delves into MickCoraline's complicated past. MickCoraline, BethJosef
1. Surprises

Okay, I don't own Moonlight, wouldn't be struggling to pay the bills if I did…blah, blah, blah.

I know I'm a member of the two percent that doesn't like Mick/Beth, so I'm not exactly expecting a rush of reviews here. I would appreciate feedback, but don't believe in begging. I'm also of the one percent that likes Mick/Coraline, so if you do drop me a line, no flames, okay? Oh, this story also includes Josef/Beth, with bits of Josef/Sara, but in the past tense.

This takes place in the somewhat near future on Moonlight, but will go back and forth between then and the past. Will earn its rating later on in the story, trust me!

_**Installment 1**_

_Coraline surveyed her surrounds apathetically, gliding along the poolside of her expensive Los Angeles residence. The climate kept the older, more dangerous competitors away, and she enjoyed the power that being one of the oldest vampires in the area brought. Her lithe figure was draped in a dazzling little red number, a creation of her own design, the material shining as she moved. One of her shoulders were bared, receiving the delicious caress of the night air, along with gentle strokes of her dark curls as they swayed with her. She was the queen holding court, stunning, aloof, and mysterious._

_Beyond providing a hell of an atmosphere, every detail from catering to music personally seen to, she didn't bother playing hostess. She spoke to only a few old acquaintances, all of them male, nearly ignoring everyone else. She could feel the leers of many male guests; could hear the resentful whispers and see the petty envy in their female companions. It barely registered. It was the same old play, the same trite script, holding only different actors._

_Charles, her old friend caught her eye, and they shared a look of understanding, the same derisive amusement glittering in their eyes. They were wolves surrounded by sheep, all trying so hard to project images of wit and sophistication, sleepwalking their way through their mundane little lives. Charles had two women with him, one on each arm. Both of them were a pretty piece of goods, and while they lacked Coraline's style or charisma, both of them cut from the same coarse, cheap piece of cloth, they'd serve the purpose of satisfying their escort's appetite. She lit a sparkler, leaving him to his amusement._

_She found her first smile tonight, thinking of her old friend. They'd known each other since America was embroiled in its Civil War, two Europeans looking for a little merriment in a fledgling country bathed in its own blood. There hadn't been many of their kind on the Western side of the Atlantic yet, so prey and territory were ripe for the taking. His name had been Colin Flynn in those days, and she Danielle de Gent, but they'd both changed little besides over the decades._

_In each other, they found like minds, both invigorated by the challenge of breaking the other. They'd both launched a campaign of seduction, playing an invigorating game of cat and mouse. In the end, their little game had ended in a draw. That conclusion had ended their sexual affair, the appeal mysteriously gone, their reluctant affection and respect transferred to friendship. She valued his companionship, being as he was her only friend. Males had long ago been regulated to the role of toys, and women as rivals and irritants. Colin, pain in her ass as he may have been, was a rarity._

_She drifted by the band. They wouldn't have been her first choice, as they were merely passable, but the band she originally hired had canceled at the last second, so she'd been willing to settle. At least, the vocalist had potential. He was probably too stupid and too loyal to realize he'd never make it to the big leagues with his band mates, and besides, his aura didn't suggest he'd do well in the cut-throat world of high-stakes showbiz. He was a little too innocent, a little too ethical. Not that Coraline had much to base her opinion on, but her gut reactions were rarely wrong, especially about men._

_Still, he was easy on the eyes, and she guessed from the looks of things, his body would be something to appreciate. Oh, he was a little too gee-whiz for her tastes, too much a babe in the woods. She didn't bother with victims that didn't provide a little bit of a challenge._

"_Something else, isn't she?" she heard one of them comment. She repressed a smirk, lingering to hear their conversation, more out of boredom than real interest as she idly paced. They were blissfully unaware of her supernaturally keen ears._

"_Yeah, I wouldn't kick her out of bed for eating crackers," the singer agreed, idly plucking at his guitar. His name was Mick St. John, if she remembered correctly, which she usually did. There was nothing crass in his tone, which caught her attention._

"_What I would give to home with that," the one who made the original comment said. She bit back a snicker. Not in a million years, Coraline thought to herself. About that time, she felt a quick, hesitant touch on her arm, from one of her many admirers, one that had been trying to work up the nerve to approach her all evening. She gave him a cold, level stare and he took the hint, blushing from embarrassment as he hurried away._

_Obviously, someone in the band had a brain and a working sense of practicality, the drummer apparently. "Yeah, right. She drops more at Saks in a day than you make in a year." _

_Deciding to give Mr. St. John a thrill, since he wasn't acting like a pig, she turned, connecting their gazes, curious. Would he falter and get flustered? Would he leer, undress her with his eyes to fuel fantasies he'd have to confess to a priest later? He did what she thought was near impossible, surprise her. He did neither. He held her gaze, definitely interested, but there was nothing lewd there. A tiny challenge passed between them, and an unwilling smile overtook her lips, the first uncalculated one that held no malice she'd given to a mortal man in…over a mortal lifetime. Cursing herself, she quickly walked away. She knew he won round one, and she hated losing._

_An hour later, she was confident of her strategy. She perched in a chair, letting her eyes rove over him. He made a point of not making a big ado about it, but she caught him sneaking little glances. After a few minutes, she caught his eye, discreetly gesturing for him to come over. She noticed him carefully glance around, not wanting to make a jackass out of himself. She kept staring at him, patiently waiting for him to make the connection. Finally, he headed over._

"_Can't you guys play something that'll get this snore on its feet?" Like Charles, she found diplomacy dull._

_She expected defensiveness or stammered excuses. All she got was a brief laugh and: "Like what?" It was the second time he surprised her in so short a span, and it intrigued her. Irritated her too for some reason._

"_I don't know, like Wynonie Harris or little Willie John, or something with a little more rhythm." The stuff he'd been playing over the two hours was the stuff lullabies were made of. For a second, she wondered if he could even pull off her kind of music._

"_Well, gee, I don't know if these people would like the devil's music." And a sense of humor too, she thought wryly._

"_That's why I want you to play it."_

"_How about 'Good Rocking Tonight?'" he suggested, playing along with this game better than she would have guessed._

_She stood so she could stare into his eyes almost direct. Men loved her eyes, poets had written sonnets about them over the many years, almost as much as they carried on about her lips. It was probably more lyrical than praising her ass or tits. "How about "Ain't that Just Like a Woman?" I think that would be much more shocking, don't you?"_

_If there was one thing that amused her, besides the hunt in all its forms, it was shocking people. This era, with all its conservative hypocrisy, made it so easy…almost too easy. But she didn't shock this one, this Mick St. John. Amused him, intrigued him, but didn't shock him. She'd just have to try harder. Besides, he had to be properly rewarded for salvaging this snooze of an evening, and punished, of course. Men needed a good dose of punishment every now and then._

"_On one condition." His eyes were clear and earnest, and she almost recoiled for some inexplicable reason. For the sake of pride, she held her ground, stare level._

_She decided to spare herself the time. "My name's Coraline."_

"_I didn't say what the condition was."_

"_That's always the condition." No matter how the story begun, it always ended the same, on her terms, and he'd be just like all the others. She gave him a lingering kiss on the cheek, almost pitying him, almost pitying herself. She walked away, and didn't look back. _

_All the same, she felt his burst of happiness, found it endearing against her will. She had to rectify this, had to prove him typical before he turned her all sentimental, only to make an idiot out of her. If you gave a man an inch…_

**Modern LA**

Beth opened the door, her eyes going wide and her mouth slackening when she saw Josef standing on the other side of the door.

"You didn't checking to see who it was?" Josef clucked his tongue, shaking his head in mild disapproval. "For a reporter, you've got the Snow White thing going on."

"I was expecting Mick about this time," she defended herself. He was right though, she was getting a little lax. She was beginning to take Mick's protection for granted, assuming he'd always be there to save her ass. "Did he come with you? Is he parking the car?"

"No, but I did run into him a little earlier. He was on his way here, but couldn't make it. Can I come in, or should I pull up a chair and make myself comfortable?"

"Come in, sorry." Beth stepped aside, not worried about her safety. Josef might have talked big, but she was as safe with him as she was with Mick. Well, maybe her ego wasn't, but that was another story.

"Anyway, since I was on my way over, he asked me to relay the message something came up." Josef surveyed his surroundings, raising one eyebrow. "Well, isn't this quaint."

Her temper threatened to snap. "Look, just because a million bucks is play money to you-"

"Not what I meant. I didn't mean it was crap, just meant it was…all homey and feminine. I expected something more cutting edge from a bull-buster reporter." The comment might have felt like an insult, but from Josef, it just seemed like commentary.

"Whatever. So, what's so important to Mick I don't even rate a phone call?" She tried to keep the irritation out of her voice, knew he'd pounce on it, but didn't entirely succeed.

"Hey, grilling is your department, and I'm not my buddy's keeper. Still, it's cute you care so much. It's all…domestic."

Okay, that was an insult, but he was right, so she skirted the issue. "So, what made you decide to grace my homey little abode with your magnificent presence?"

"You've been looking into Sara's condition," he said bluntly. There wasn't any hostility to his voice, but it was obvious he expected answers.

"Yes." Any lies, any evasions would get her nowhere good. Not that Josef would harm her, but she still didn't want to piss him off. "Not that I thought it would do any good, I just thought…I mean, if there was any obvious answer, you would have found it by now. It's just my way of trying to help. I consider you…a well…maybe _friend_ is stretching it, but-"

"An ally if nothing else," he finished for her brusquely. "I never thought your little quest wasn't well intended, I'm just warning you not to waste your time. I've spent thousands of hours on the subject, and even with my wealth, vast connections, and centuries of knowledge, I've come up with nothing, not a clue. You're won't do any better."

She bristled. He was probably right, but still…"I'm a reporter-"

"Well, color me impressed," he shot at her sarcastically.

"How did you even know?"

"I have more contacts than you'd think. They keep me well informed on any inquires on the subject," he assured her. "I don't think you'll have much luck. But…" he trailed off, a reluctant spark of something close to hope lighting his eyes. "If you do find something that'll even explain what I did wrong…needless to say I'll be very, very grateful." Then he was gone, leaving Beth to think about it.


	2. Questions

Hey, folks. I'm surprised and grateful at the amount of reviews I got. I'm sending a giant thank-you out there. Intimate Stranger, your review totally made my day. If you keep up the support, I'll keep the updates coming as quick as I can manage.

**Modern LA, April 10th, 11:00 AM**

Beth's day had been sucking big time. Not only had BuzzWire stuck her with a fluff piece to end all fluff pieces, she'd hit nothing but dead ends on researching Sara's condition. The only time new vampires didn't come out of the transition is when the change had been forced on them, and even then, death comas were rare. Vamps usually weren't willing to talk to a human, so only Ryder, Josef's whiz kid who just got back from his 'vacation' in South America, and Guillermo from the morgue were willing to tell her anything and neither of them had been a vampire longer than 20 years. Wonderful.

Mick had already told her all he knew, and that wasn't much. Then again, he wasn't that old by vampire standards, either. She remembered what Josef had told her, about all the hours he'd spent digging for answers, and how he'd come up empty. If a billionaire with 400 hundred years behind him struck out, she had her work cut out for her, especially since all she kept getting was doors slammed in her face. If only Mick was around to work with her, she'd at least have more sources; more people would be willing to talk.

Frustrated, Beth dialed his cell again, and got only his voice mail. Instead of leaving a fifth message, she tried his home phone…again, but had nada in the way of luck. Where was he? He couldn't be out of town. Oh, sure, he'd taken a couple of business trips since their friendship started, but he always said goodbye and left a number where she could reach him, over her answering machine if nothing else. Dammit, was he avoiding her again?

No, that couldn't be it. The last time Mick pulled a disappearing act, there was definite motivation. The last she'd talked with Mick, everything had been normal, comfortable, and relaxed. There was another reason for Mick not returning her calls; she'd bet a month's salary on it.

Was he hurt…or worse!? Panic leaped up and grabbed Beth by the throat. For some reason, it just hadn't occurred to her, probably because she'd seen Mick overcome pretty uneven odds, but he was far from invincible. Just a few days ago, Josef said something had come up, but had no answers to offer.

Shaking, she hastily dialed one of Josef's many cell phone numbers, trying not to completely jump to conclusions. Josef must have recognized her number, because he didn't bother with greetings of any kind. "Do you have some kind of news, Turner?"

"Uh, hi Josef. No, I-"

"Dear, dear Beth, when I e-mailed this number to you, I could have sworn I recall adding the instructions 'Only to be used in case of Sara or an emergency.' Is my memory failing me?" His voice was smooth, friendly even, a little too much so to be genuine.

Fighting the impulse to mouth off, she took a calming breath before trusting herself to speak. "Your memory works fine. I'm working on getting your answers, honest."

"I won't hold my breath," he dismissed, letting edges of his irritation be heard. "Since you haven't gotten to any real point, I'm assuming your life isn't in jeopardy, and if you want to borrow money, I'd advise against it. You couldn't afford my terms."

Oh, brother. "I'd just as soon hit up a loan shark," she snapped before she could stop herself. "Look, before you interrupt me, I'm calling about Mick. I don't know if it's an emergency or not, but…he's not answering my calls."

"Maybe he's just tired of your circle game," Josef speculated innocently. "What point are you two at now, hand holding or is it still at longing glances?"

Beth gritted her teeth, her blue eyes flashing with anger. "This isn't funny, okay? Josef, Mick would, and has, risked his life for you. If you were his friend-"

"Don't lecture me, human, on my friendship with Mick," Josef warned her with deadly calm. She knew she'd overstepped, it didn't take a rocket scientist. "It's not your business, and something you could never grasp. To shut you up, however, I'm happy to tell you Mick is just fine. I spoke to him not ten minutes ago."

"You spoke to him? Where?" The awful tension in her stomach was starting to drain away.

"I was at his apartment. I didn't stay long, but long enough to see there's nothing for you to worry about."

His phrasing worried her. "Is he okay, Josef?"

"Do you think I would have left him if he needed me?" She knew he was coming close to getting his boxers in a twist again. "He's sleeping, I presume, that's probably why he hasn't called you back."

"Probably," Beth agreed, feeling better. "Thanks, Josef."

"Oh, don't thank me yet. I was in the middle of a meeting, a very important one. For your sake, I hope this doesn't cost me." Then the line was dead, causing Beth to roll her eyes. A smile tugged at her lips. Josef might have talked a mean game, but when all was said and done, he did come through, and he hadn't hung up on her until she felt better.

Her cell phone rang, startling her. She didn't recognize the number, and curiosity pumped, she was quick to answer. "Beth Turner."

"Beth Turner, Buzz wire, no?" An unfamiliar feminine voice was on the other line, drowning in a French accent. "I hear you are looking for a set of answers. I might be able to provide them."

"Mind narrowing it down?"

"Certainly. You are looking into the matter of certain transitions that go, shall we say, terribly wrong?" Beth sucked in her breath, trying not to get her hopes up. This lady might not know anymore than her previous sources had.

Beth's interest was hooked. "Actually, yes. Would you be interested in meeting me with at Bu-"

"No!" The woman gasped, and for a second Beth thought she might hang up. "I cannot meet with you, Miss Turner, my life would be in jeopardy from the one who calls himself Josef Kostan. We will conduct any interviews this way."

"All right," Beth agreed quickly. This might be a dead-end, but it was the most promising lead she had so far.

"I cannot talk any longer, this phone is not safe. I will call you tonight, at eight o'clock. I assume you will clear your schedule." For the second time that day, the line went dead in Beth's ear without any warning.

**1950's LA**

_It was time for the cat to play,_ Coraline thought, but without her usual zeal. She didn't really have any taste for the hunt tonight, didn't want to hurt this one. _That's why you have to, _her instincts screamed. If she didn't hurt him, then she'd lose a piece of her power, and her power is what kept her alive. She'd be gentle with her prey, teach him a lesson, but also give him something to remember. And for the rest of his life, when he lay beside his dutiful, domestic little wifey, their three kids sleeping in their beds across the hall, he'd think of the lady in red, and he'd wonder if it all been a dream.

His mediocre band mates were packing up. Underneath this Mick St. John's composed surface, she sensed exhilaration, passion. _The music is what makes him feel alive,_ she realized with a pang, sad for him in a way she was rarely sad for anyone. After he got married, and had his first child, bills and responsibility would sink their hooks into him, and he'd put aside his guitar and sell his soul to some company that'd give him a good salary and benefits. He'd die in that rut, just another bolt in a machine that robbed him of so much.

_Oh, don't descend into melodrama, _she told herself. He was just another toy for her amusement, who played with him next after she tired of him wasn't her concern, and if the world broke him, so be it. The world had certainly broken her, and no one had cried for her.

Swaying her hips at their must enticing angle, she strolled forward, bottle of champagne in her hand, a little vintage she'd been saving for the last ten years. She leaned against a pillar, sized him up. "Want to get wet?"

For a second, he froze, caught in her spell. He whipped his head around; far more obvious about making sure she was speaking to him this time. She wondered if his earlier confidence had been a farce. No, no, he couldn't have fooled her; not someone with her years. No, perhaps he'd been self-assured because they were surrounded by people, and she'd seemed unattainable, a safe temptation.

He jammed his hands in his pockets, a habit of his. His posture straightened, and when he tried to adopt a sophisticated guise, she felt herself grin. He was so cute; it was too bad the rules were already set. She felt his burst of happiness, felt it echo in herself, and tried to squelch it. In the words of a great queen: "There will be one mistress here, and no master." She led him out to the pool and out of his familiar world.

"You don't even know my name," he pointed out. Oh, didn't she? Did he think she just picked a band with a blindfold on?

It didn't matter, she decided. "Do I need to?" Names were insignificant when flesh was on flesh, lips had better uses then.

He stepped forward, and his body heat seeped into her. "Maybe you should come to one of my real gigs."

_Oh, honey_, she thought, mentally shaking her head. _Don't try to play tough, you'll just hurt yourself_. "This was one of your real gigs," she told him bluntly, reminding him who was leading this dance. She expected rage or humiliation, since crushing a man's ego was the quickest way to wound him. She only picked up on mild irritation and confusion, however. He wasn't sure of the steps yet, and she didn't plan on letting him learn. "Will give me a hand?"

After a minute of hesitation, then he was carefully pulling the zipper down, inch by tantalizing inch. Her eyes closed on a sensory rush, the silken air kissing her back, his gaze caressing her newly exposed skin, centering on her tattoo. His reverence, his fascination was surrounding her, filling her. She was catching him in the same trap she'd used a million times before, and she wasn't even trying. Of course, seduction was an art she'd been studying since she was fifteen years of age. She'd long since perfected it.

The dress pooled at her ankles, and she gracefully lifted her feet out of it, leaving it in a ruby puddle, her body naked, free to accept the moonlight's silver mantle. She stepped silently out of her heels, diving into the pool, could feel every individual drop of water as it welcomed her flesh into its depths. Mick had stood, transfixed, caught between instinct and a lifetime of conditioning.

Coraline surfaced, giving her conflicted companion a sly smile. "Join me, darling. The water's fine."

"That's awful tempting, Coraline, but-"

"My name sounds so nice on your lips," she observed, licking her own. Her eyes were bold as they raked down his body, noting his hands were tight fists against his side. "You're not scared of me, are you…_Mick_?"

"So, you do know my name." He crouched down by the pool, reaching out, smoothing a wet strand of hair away from her cheek. A wicked gleam danced in her dark eyes, and before he could even blink, she was pulling him into the pool with one, strong yank. He came up sputtering, her rich laugh resonating along the sound. "Guess you don't take no for an answer, do you?" he managed once he could almost breathe again.

"Everyone likes getting their way; I just have what it takes to get it." She felt it was fair warning. "Take off your clothes, I'll have them laundered them for you later."

"Uh…" he stared at her blankly as if she started blathering in Greek.

"Why don't we start with your shirt, mmm?" She seared him with her eyes, made sure her voice poured over him like hot honey. Her hands drifted to the buttons on the sappy Hawaiian shirt, her fingers deft, the shirt falling away easily. He was paralyzed, and when she started stroking his chest, his breathing was suddenly harsh. She felt a stab of idiotic disappointment. So, he was this easy of a mark, was he? Just another typical male who would rut with any female that crooked her finger.

When she started working on his belt, he jerked away. "I-I can make do," he announced, taking deep breaths.

"You seem tense," she teased.

"Do you always drag strangers into your pool?" His met her eyes, pulling himself up to sit on the side as he pried off his soggy shoes and socks, then his clothes. Mmmm, lovely muscles in those arms.

"When I'm not chained to my needlework or the stove," she retorted sarcastically.

"You don't exactly strike me as the domestic type." There was nothing judgmental in the comment, and again, he surprised her.

"And what do I strike you as?" Not that she gave a damn what anyone, especially a man, thought about her, but this conversation was somewhat amusing, so why not pursue it?

"A tornado," he admitted honestly. She burst into laughter again, which faded as soon as the last garment was peeled away, his body exposed in the moonlight. She'd seen thousands of naked men since that fateful summer she'd turned fifteen, and was too jaded to be impressed by any specimen, but she had to admit, he was very nicely put together, and she felt a stab of eagerness cut through her. This was going to even more fun than she thought.

He slid back in, cutting through the water with clean, broad strokes. She admired the view, enjoying nature's handiwork in motion. He politely ignored her blatant examination, pretending her own nudity didn't affect him, that it didn't make him burn.

Playing along, she swam with him, their movements falling into unison. With her vampiric speed and agility, she could have outraced him easily, but was enjoying the brisk pace, this dance between them too much. If she was going to be honest with herself, she'd admit she enjoyed his company more than anything, but that was too dangerous of a confession, even to herself.

After a half hour or so later, she slowed, purposely giving the impression of mild fatigue even though she was humming with energy. "Now, aren't you glad I persuaded you to join me?"

"Well, I can't say as I'm complaining." A boyish smile overtook his lips, his eyes so sincere it cut her. "You've got one swell set-up here."

"It'll do," she said with a careless shrug. Opulence and all that went with it had long ceased to impress her. She preferred it, naturally, but wasn't dependent on it, like her good friend Charles. "How about a drink? Do you care for champagne?" Since her taste buds only registered blood, the most expensive champagne might as well have been moonshine to her, but humans tended to be a little more discriminating.

At his affirmative answer, they climbed out of the pool, and she caught him admiring her gleaming flesh, though discreetly. She'd set the stage, it was time for the play to begin.

**Modern LA, April 10****th****, 3:00 AM**

Even Coraline could only hit her head against a brick wall so many times before her tenacity, her love, and her energy just reached their limits. _Girl, take a hint, he's just not that into you, _she told herself. She'd love Mick St. John until the day she died, but their chapter had closed. Let him chase after human girls with boyfriends, little blonde snoops that played around with stakes.

She slipped into her old party home, gazing through the window, her stare centered on the pool, her eyes misting as she remembered. Disgusted with herself, she shoved her heartache down. She breathed in to calm herself, and immediately, her senses starting clamoring. She wasn't alone.

"Honey, you're home." Mick stepped out of the shadows, voice set in stony sarcasm. Leisurely, she turned around to face him, adopting a bored expression.

"Come back for a stroll down memory lane?" She tilted her head ever so slightly, considering her ex-husband. He was conflicted, torn in a thousand directions. There was anger, guilt, uncertainty, love, and hate clashing in his eyes. He wasn't in a frame of mind to hurt her, just huff and puff, and bluff.

"I'd just as soon not re-live nightmares."

"Then why are you here, Mick?" Coraline asked, unfazed by his barb. He'd have to do better than that if he was ever going to dint her hide. "Chasing your pot of gold again?"

"Did you think that I'd just let you pull a vanishing act? Did you think I'd just let it go?" he demanded.

"I really didn't give you much thought," Coraline lied easily, a trick she'd mastered long ago.

Intentionally obvious, he inhaled, advancing on her. "What the hell are you, a snake, shedding species like they're skins?" He reached out to grab her, but she gracefully side-stepped him. "Just tell me how you did it."

"You're like a broken record," she gritted out from between clenched teeth, and then decided to put him out of his misery. "Look, there isn't any point to answers. It's nothing more than a temporary reversal, and trust me; you can't afford the treatments on your salary."

"There's got to be a permanent version of what you took," Mick insisted, not about to let go of his obsession.

"If there is, then I overlooked it in all my _years_ of relentless research." She gave an airy shrug. "If you want to chase rainbows, be my guest. Good luck." She turned her back, heading for the stairs.

"Don't you walk away!" he growled, successfully gripping her arm, whirling her around. She twisted sharply, ramming her hips into him, shoving hard against his lower stomach at the same second. Unprepared, he stumbled back, enough for Coraline to slip out of his hold.

"You won't find me as manageable as you did in the cemetery," she warned him coldly. "No one, not even you, darling, lays their hands on me without permission. Don't do it again."

"What's it gonna take here, Coraline? Is this some kind of revenge? Dangle the carrot in front of my face, using it as leverage? What, I have to screw you before you'll help me?"

Brief laughter, harsh and dead, tore its free from her lips. "Don't flatter yourself, Mick. You think I'd go through all this trouble for a ride on your cock? Trust me, baby, there's plenty of that to go around, I don't need Beth Turner's leftovers."

"Don't you dare bring her into this," he snarled, his fist lashing out, overturning a sheet covered piece of furniture.

"Oh, don't bother with the dramatics. I have no plans for your precious Beth, or you, actually. The _Beth and Mick_ Soap Opera is safe from my evil clutches, trust me. I'm just changing the channel." Her chest tightened to the point of physical pain, but he'd never know it. Coraline was the consummate survivalist, the consummate actress.

Thrown off balance, Mick lost some of his rage. "Excuse me?"

"It means I'm exiting the party," she explained blithely. "This has been fun, I guess, but greener pastures and all that. I would say it's been nice, but that'd be bullshit, so I won't bother. It's been…interesting, anyway."

Suspicion, the constant companion in their marriage, was written all over his face. "All right, what's your game, now?"

"No game, Mick, no tricks up my sleeve. I don't really give a rat's ass whether you believe me or not, so take it for what's it worth." Her train of thought went crashing when her senses picked up on a door opening from downstairs…the inhumanly slow heartbeat of an intruder. She'd know that scent anywhere…Mick's grandsire was here for a final reckoning.


	3. Decisions

Hey, everyone. I would have had this up sooner, but due to the weather in my neck of the woods, I was stranded away from the computer, so what's a fanfic writer to do? Anyway, thanks for the feedback that was offered, I always appreciate it.

Initimate Stranger, we Coraline/Mick shippers got to stick together, right? We're way outnumbered, and it's always cool to know that someone's appreciating that aspect to this story. Enjoy the ride

**Modern LA**

At 8:00, Beth's source called. "Beth Turner," she answered.

"I must be brief, Miss Turner. I assume since you are an acquaintance of Josef Kostan, this must have something to do with Lola."

Well, that was a name Beth never thought anyone would have to hear again. "What makes you say that?"

"I only know what she has done before, two hundred years before Josef Kostan came to know her. I was her lady's maid, you see. Her husband and sire, Luke, had grown bored with her, and loved another, Lillianna. He wished to turn her, so they could be together…eternally. Lola had the wild fury of ten beasts!" the Frenchwoman exclaimed. "Before Lillianna could be turned, Lola slipped a tiny amount silver into her tea, so it would be in her blood as she was turned, corrupting the transition, or so my mistress claimed. All I know was that she never awoke. Fearing she was a prisoner in own body, Lucas ended all."

"Do you think Lola could have done the same thing again?" If this was true, poor Josef! He'd been beating himself up for decades over something his whack-job ex rigged.

"I have not seen her since a year after she turned me. She was an evil woman, by mortal or immortal standards." There was a shudder to the voice on the other line. "I only know she is capable of repeating her evil acts, and I hear that she and Josef Kostan were lovers for a good many years. If she thought she could lose him…I know she is more than capable of repeating her evil deed."

"How do I know any of this is true?" The story seemed like the real deal, but Beth had been in business long enough to know some people got off on spinning utter crap, passing it off as truth.

"I cannot tell you my identity," the stranger insisted.

"Why? Why do you think Josef would hurt you?" Beth pressed.

"I made an enemy of him long ago, another story altogether. Believe me, mortal one; if our paths cross again, I will not be so fortunate. But if another suffered because of Lola, it is my duty to try to help them by at least by offering an explanation." Beth started to ask more, but then, her informant was gone, a whole new set of problems. Josef would want more than a word of some mysterious enemy. Second of all, that didn't solve Sara's problem. Was there an antidote to the silver's effects? Was it too late?

Well, she had a place to start. She'd research silver, not just in relation to vampire lore, but everything about it in general. Maybe Mick would be a good place to start getting some answers. She'd stop by his place tomorrow. Also, she had to re-examine Sara's diary. Lola could have befriended her in order to slip the silver in her drink, or hired someone in Josef's inner circle to do it.

The knock on her door broke her concentration. "Mick?" she wondered, hoping it was. She'd missed hanging out with him, even though it'd only been a few days. This time, though, she checked, remembering Josef's Snow White comment. "Well, speak of the devil," she muttered, seeing who it was.

"You flatter me," Josef quipped as soon as she opened the door. Oh, supernatural hearing, got it.

"So, did the meeting fall through and you're here to whack me?"

"I was an asshole earlier," he admitted cheerfully.

Stepping aside, she gestured him in. "So, you're here to apologize?"

Josef laughed like she'd pulled a Jay Leno. "Oh, and a sense of humor too. I can almost see why Mick's so enthralled with you. No, I'm not here to beg your forgiveness or anything else. Still, you're trying to help me out, even if you're way out of your league, so I'll try to at least fake some manners in the future."

"Out of my league?" She hadn't been planning to tell him, but since he thought he knew so much, she just had to put him in his place. "As a matter of fact, I already have a promising lead."

"Oh, the silver, you mean?" Josef was casual as he completely burst her bubble.

Beth took a step back, her face incredulous. "You _knew_ what Lola did?"

"If I had, she would have been dead long before your time. She would have died screaming if I'd even suspected she'd hurt my Sara." Beth considered herself a pretty plucky individual, but Josef was freaking her out, he looked and sounded murderous.

"Okay, okay. Jeez, a simple 'no' would have worked fine." She rubbed her arms, grateful when Josef's murderous mood evaporated as fast as it had come on. "So how-"

"I was listening at your door," he told her without a shred of shame. "Well, it's only fair since I heard my name. I was coming by anyway, and I tell you, my ears were positively burning."

"Then why did you accuse me of being out of my league?"

"I was baiting you, seeing what you'd say." He scowled, but it was more cute than scary. "Amazing. I spend years searching for answers, and a mere human get's a promising lead in days. If this wasn't about Sara, I would be very put out."

"Well, maybe if you hadn't put the fear of God into this woman, she would have come to you with the answers. You don't think she's lying, do you?"

"I usually assume everyone's lying until it's proved otherwise. Still, it's all I've got to go on for now." Beth couldn't be sure, but she thought she saw a flicker of sadness in his otherwise bland expression. "I expect you to verify her story."

"Me? What about you? I figure since Sara's the love of your life, you'd want to hunt the answers down yourself."

Josef looked genuinely baffled. "Why bother? When you're rich, you can pay other people to do your homework for you. Besides, believe it or not, a multi-billion dollar corporation doesn't run itself, even with my brand of genius. Besides, you're doing so well, it'd be a shame not to let you keep going."

"First of all-" she started to say.

"You're coming with me to New York." Beth's jaw dropped, shocked. Who the hell did he think he was, her boss? He was on a power trip Donald Trump would do a double-take over and Beth didn't plan on putting up with it. Josef must have guessed she was about to let him have it, because he waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, save me any feminist tirades. Put your girl power aside for a minute, and think smart. I have more connections than you can shake a stick at, including in the media. You stick with me, and your career will skyrocket."

"I don't accept bribes," Beth argued.

Josef snorted. "You're a big girl, Beth, and reporters shouldn't have delicate sensibilities. Besides, it's not a bribe, it's a legitimate offer. If you say no, I'm not going to wreck your career since I don't, strictly speaking, need you; I just want your help. Still, you'll always regret it if you don't jump on this opportunity."

"And my job?" She was starting to cave, the temptation strong.

"You figure it out, I'm sure you'll come up with something."

"How do I know you'll stick to your end of the deal? You may be Mick's friend, but that doesn't mean you're mine." That wasn't to say there wasn't some sort of respect and compatibility between them, but for Josef, friendship was a privilege you didn't earn overnight, and Beth knew she hadn't made the mark yet.

"There's an ancient custom called a contract. I'll have one drawn up. Put a lawyer on retainer if you want to play if safe, I'd do the same thing. Also, as a token of my sincerity, I'm willing to pay you $30,000."

"$30,000," Beth repeated in disbelief. The amount of money was huge in Beth's book, representing a measure of financial security. Oh, sure, she couldn't buy a house on that, but she could pay off her car, credit cards, have a few shopping sprees. "How'd you hit on that number?"

"10,000 is for the answers you've already supplied. Admittedly, you came across them on sheer dumb luck, but I didn't stipulate on the means you acquired what I wanted, and frankly, I don't care. 20,000 is for the trouble of putting your career on hold, and coming to New York. You'll have your own place, a penthouse of mine, and your meals will be provided. All your bills will be paid during your stay in New York, and you'll be supplied with a limit free credit card for any expenses on this case. However," his voice turned sharp, "you will be expected to account for any charges. I want clear, concise documentation, understand? Any spending money, you'll have to provide for yourself."

"That sounds fair," she said automatically.

Josef looked incredulous. "Fair? Fair! I'd say it's beyond generous. The expense will hardly make a ripple on my finances, but it's still a good deal of money I'm spending on you. Don't get big ideas and think you're actually worth it, because you're not. Sara is, however. She's worth every penny I've got."

"That's a lot of pennies," Beth commented mildly, forgetting her irritation. As much of a jackass as Josef might be to 99.9 of the population, he was an absolute gem where Sara was concerned.

"I'll have the contract drawn up," Josef told her. "You can hire a lawyer in New York. We leave tomorrow morning."

"How am I supposed to-"

"Take care of everything before then? That's your problem, Beth, not mine. I will collect you tomorrow, eight o'clock sharp. I don't know how long we'll be gone, that depends on how efficient you are, I suppose." He turned to leave, leaving Beth sputtering.

Finally, she managed to spit out a coherent sentence, just as he reached the door. "They'll fire me!"

"Probably," Josef agreed without an ounce of sympathy. "With me backing you, you'll get a new position somewhere else."

"I like my job!" Beth protested.

"Life's full of little disappointments," Josef drawled. "If you're half as creative as you think you are, make up a good lie. Your mother's dying or your brother needs a kidney, whatever."

Knowing it was pointless to argue with him, Beth gave up. "When will Mick be joining us?"

"I wasn't under the impression I was paying Mick's bills. Oh, wait, I'm not, so therefore, he won't be joining us. Surely, you can conduct an investigation without him there to hold your hand." He spared her one glance before disappearing. "Don't bother him. He's not a part of this, he's got enough on his plate."

**Coraline's Party House, 18 hours earlier**

"Mick, get out," Coraline gasped. No matter what the dynamics currently between them, her instincts were screaming to protect him, to protect the one her heart thought of as 'mate.'

She heard Mick sniff the air, saw him shift into a fighting stance. He knew they weren't alone now too. "Coraline-"

"She's 600 years old, Mick," Coraline snapped. "You never were much of a fighter, you fight like a friggin' human. She'll annihilate you."

Mick didn't take offense, but then again, it was hard to offend him, especially in a crisis. "We'll take her together," he proposed. "Two against one, better odds, right?"

"I don't need your help," she hissed, even though she was secretly touched he'd offer, even as much as he distrusted her. "Just get out, I don't have the luxury of protecting you."

"No, _mon chéri_, you don't." There was no accent to the French endearment, only cold disdain. Coraline beheld her sire with cold detachment. Oh, she didn't have the ridiculous resentments Mick did, the day she became a vampire was the day she found freedom, found her strength. She was grateful to her sire, and once, they'd held each other in affection, but their relationship had long since soured.

"Veronica," she greeted tonelessly. "So, you've found me, eh?"

"Of course, Danielle." Coraline's sire stepped forward. She was not a beautiful woman, though not unappealing either. If she was anything, she was harshly handsome, her sense of style and grace recommending her as much as anything. She was composed, even tranquil, but Coraline knew it was only a matter of time before Veronica struck. "Did you not think your insolence would be punished? You killed my most beloved servant. You will be held accountable."

"He was a rapist, and sadistic besides," Coraline snapped. "Good riddance, he was beginning to draw attention." Moral misdeeds usually amused Coraline, but rape was the exception. She'd never forget being trapped on the stone floor, her stepbrother ramming himself past her virginity, taking her with delighted brutality.

"Mortals are for our pleasure, Danielle, his violent delights were his affair, and if there was punishment due, it was mine to dole out, not yours." Her voice never raised an octave, never altered in tone. She was almost pleasant as she explained her position.

"Do your worse, old woman," Coraline told her without qualms. She might come out a little worse for the wear, but she'd survive the encounter, or at least had a decent chance. "Just let him go. He's insignificant, a mere child, and he's no friend of mine."

"I'm not going anywhere," Mick asserted, having watched the scene between the two powerful women silently, understanding his ex a little better now.

"I would go, if I were you. She's right, you're of no importance, and I have only one target tonight."

"Beat it," Coraline growled, wanting to strangle him for being so damned stubborn. "There's no goddamned permanent cure, so there's no point in saving my ass, okay? Out!"

"And leave two lovely ladies all on their lonesome?" Oh, for the love of-

"Mick-"

She made a mistake. She always made them where he was concerned, her love for him her weakness. She took her eyes off Veronica, turning to Mick to try to get it through his thick skull. "Coraline!" Mick's yell echoed off the walls as he grabbed her shoulders, trying to yank her out of the way.

It was too late. The silver bullet found its way into her thigh, agony swimming through her veins. "Ahhh!" she screamed, falling to the ground. The poision was right behind the pain, sapping her strength, making her vision blur. The bitch had a gun. She'd never thought there'd be guns. It had never been Veronica's style before.

Another bullet flew through the air, finding its way through Mick's left temple, exiting the other side. He collapsed beside his ex-wife, inert, his eyes closed. "Mick," Coraline whimpered, dragging herself the short distance over to him. She barely noticed Veronica leaving the room. She sniffed, nuzzling at him in the mindless way a wounded animal nuzzles their mate. He was alive, the bullet was out, and he'd be okay.

The joy in that realization gave her the resolve to reach for the knife in her jacket pocket, and dig the small bullet out of her thigh. The pain was white-hot, so acute she almost blacked out herself as she dug for the small piece of wretched metal, compounded by the damage already done.

The bullet was almost out when she smelled gasoline. What? Her sluggish brain struggled to function, to find the answer to the overwhelming stench. She covered Mick's body with hers. _Love him, need him, protect him,_ was all she could reason through. Then she smelled smoke, and she understood. Veronica was finishing them off with fire.

"No," Coraline mewled, terror building. Since the night Mick almost killed her, even a lit match sent panic through her. She dug for the bullet more erratically, slicing her flesh open, blood pouring out, doubling her weakness. Finally, mercifully, the bullet popped out.

"Mick, baby, hang on," she whispered. The fire was beginning to spread, from the other room, two other ones being set. She tried to stand, but her legs buckled. She was healing, but slowly, the pain still threatening to overwhelm her. She could get out, but getting them both out alive would be a challenge, one that she might not be able to handle.

The sinister voice of self-preservation was whispering to her, and usually, she listened to it. _Leave him, save yourself. It's fitting, isn't it? He staked you, and then left you to the flames he made. If Josef hadn't saved you, there'd be nothing left but a pile of ash._ _What goes around, comes around. _Coraline was hardened enough to pause for a few seconds, consider. It would be the ultimate revenge, poetic justice in its rawest form.

Coraline stood, looking down at him. The fire was edging closer, her throat closing, her body shaking. She made her decision.


	4. Results

First of all, as always, thank everyone for the reviews, and as always, Intimate Stranger, I appreciate the feedback, and I hope you enjoy the Mick/Coraline dynamic. For all you Beth/Josef lovers, she really didn't fit into this installment, but there's plenty of Josef to go around.

**LA, 2:45 AM**

"This better be good, Coraline," Josef growled into his cell phone, not appreciating his 2:00 AM blow job being interrupted.

The words he heard sliced into him, lust a distant memory. "I need your help. There's been silver bullets…fire. Both Mick and me are hurt." Coraline's voice trembled on Mick's name. "I'm not far from my old party house, within plain sight. Pick us up."

Josef didn't waste time with farewells. Well, not that he wasted time with 'em anyway, he admitted that as he drove personally to Coraline's old address in record time. Coraline was by the pool, cradling a lifeless Mick in her arms, her fangs extended, her eyes colorless. She was poised to tear any threat to pieces.

"Put him in the car," Josef told her. She obeyed wordlessly, climbing into the backseat with Mick, still guarding him. She told Josef everything in the early minutes of the drive. There were no bursts of hysteria, no buckets of tears, just concise narrative.

"Where's your gem of a sire now?" It was the first and only question he'd asked during her account of events.

"She bailed after the fire. Either she figured I'd learned my lesson, or figured the fire would do me in." Burns littered Coraline's body, and though she'd never mentioned it, since Mick was relatively unscathed, Josef knew she'd shielded his body through the flames.

"A little blood and you'll be fine," Josef told her thoughtfully. "The burns are relatively minor."

"I know the difference." They were both remembering Coraline's last experience, how she'd looked like a charred mummy. Josef had known at the time it was probably kinder to put her out of her misery, but based on sentiment he'd never verbalize, he couldn't bring himself to do it. "Will he be all right, Josef?"

"I'll consult my fucking crystal ball," he growled, pissed off at the whole situation, at Mick for playing the hero, at Coraline for coming back at all. "You just never give up, do you? You thought playing the human would have him rushing back into your arms? What you two have-correction, _had_, is a one-way ticket to the land of World of Pain. Do you remember last time? If not, let me refresh your memory. You got a brain-wave, kidnapped a kid, and then went up in flames, which yours truly had to rescue you from. Not to mention, what about my position in all this? I've been walking the high-wire from hell the last 22 years, playing dumb."

"Mick doesn't suspect you saved me," Coraline guaranteed him flatly. "And trust me; he's not curious about the details. All he cares about is being among his precious humans again. Overrated, I assure you."

"That's not the issue," Josef countered, voice snarky. "The point is, I put myself on the line for you, and you're up to your old tricks. When's enough ever enough for you, Coraline?"

"First of all, I don't answer to you, Josef." Coraline's voice was calm, but steel ran through it. She was absently stroking Mick's hair, never shifting her complete focus away. "I go where I want, and I leave when I want. You saved my life, and I'm grateful, but I've saved your sorry hide more than once over the decades, so don't start playing that card with me. As for my tricks, I'll save you the worry. I'm leaving."

"Leaving?" Josef echoed, nodding once. "Where you going?"

"London or Yorkshire, maybe. I'll drop you a line." They'd been keeping in touch for the last 22 years, Mick totally in the dark. The depth of deception hadn't bothered Josef on a moral level, it'd take a lot to burn his conscience, but on a practical level, it was a pain in the ass. The sheer intricacy of duping Mick had been huge. Josef preferred to play it up front, especially where friends were concerned, but for numerous reasons, he knew it was a secret best kept.

"You really love him, don't you?" Josef mused aloud. He'd known Coraline had it bad for Mick, that she'd wanted him, been obsessed with him, that there was plenty of passion to go around. All that stuff made for great drama, but he always figured Coraline wasn't capable of loving a man in that way, that the scars ran too deep. Well, if anyone was good at proving him wrong, it had always been Coraline.

"Doesn't matter," she dismissed tiredly.

"No, it doesn't." Well, one way or the other, love did bizarre things; he was living proof of that. Her too. Coraline, the mistress of self-preservation had risked her life for someone who once left her to barbeque. Life _did_ have an off the wall sense of humor.

Josef's mind went back to the night Mick told him Coraline was back, shock almost sending the younger vamp into a daze. Josef played it cool, gauging the situation. When Mick mentioned the woman in question was mortal, he hadn't been bullshitting when he took the stance of Morgan not being Coraline. Of course, when he saw the object of Mick's agitation in the flesh, he knew his old companion had pulled the ultimate fast one. He'd cornered her, demanding the details.

Coraline had been relatively up front, more so than Josef expected. The cure? Temporary, no exceptions. Her intentions towards Mick? Benign, entirely. Her intentions towards Beth? Just good old-fashioned competition, nothing sinister. Josef had watched her like a hawk, knew her well enough to believe her. He'd decided to stay out of it, and then Beth came to him, demanding answers.

He'd told her the truth, or at least, the sections he could. He wanted her to know what she was getting into, but hadn't blown Coraline's cover, tried to steer Beth off the path as best he could. The blonde hadn't suspected he was holding back. She may have been bright, but he had centuries of experience under his belt. It had been child's play.

"I'm not leaving until I see for myself he's okay," Coraline's statement broke the minutes-long silence.

"I doubt he'll thank you for saving him, but it's your funeral." Josef's gut told him Coraline saved Mick for the sake of keeping him alive, not some hidden agenda. Mick probably wouldn't be as trusting.

"Josef, don't you think I've got the memo?" Coraline snapped. "If the male species was a college course, I'd have a Ph.D. And I know Mick better than any man. The game's over, I lost, fine. I just want to make sure that he'll be all right, and then he's rid of me for good."

Even as Coraline said the words, emptiness threatened to overwhelm her. Their relationship has always redefined dysfunctional, and there were a million times over their long history it would have been easier to walk away. Before Mick, the idea that any man (except perhaps the one currently driving the car) wasn't indispensable would have been laughable. It looked like the joke was on her.

With centuries of practice, Coraline repressed her impending grief, pouring all her energy into Mick instead. Josef drove them to Mick's apartment, and while Josef got him into the freezer, Coraline whipped him up a meal. She poured his usual slop into a bowl, removing her already bloody knife, slicing open her wrist, letting her blood flow freely. While vampires preferred the blood of mortals, as it tasted better and was more nourishing, there was sheer power in vampiric blood, especially Coraline's, who was over 300 years old. When his system got her blood in it, he'd absorb some of her strength.

Blackness threatened Coraline, already weak from the silver's curse, and her already spilt blood. "Don't!" Josef barked, anxiety dancing in his eyes, invading his expression.

"He needs it more than me." The off-hand comment was weak, but clear.

"Bullshit. Go feed, I'll play nursemaid." Josef opened his own vein, mixing his own blood to the mix. "Besides, my blood's a much superior vintage."

Gripping the counter to keep from swaying, Coraline smirked. "It packs a punch, I'll give you that. Christ, Josef, what's wrong with him?"

"Oh, nothing, he's just peachy keen," Josef growled.

"I mean besides the obvious. He's no stronger than he was twenty-two years ago." Strong enough to kick her ass, she could admit it, but he'd had an advantage. She'd just been trying to subdue him; he'd been going for the jugular.

"Because he's not feeding right." Josef handed her a packet from Mick's stash, exasperation rife in his voice. "The pansy wouldn't touch fresh blood if you offered him a million bucks, and priests get more action than him." The most fun way to ingest vampire blood was through a few rounds of sex with another vampire, but it sounded like Mick was above that, or trying to be. Virtue was all fine and good, but it was keeping him weak, keeping him from the strength due to a vampire of his years. "Who knows how he'll be when he comes out of it. There might be some side-affects."

Coraline loaded the needle with her meal, the idea of actually swallowing that swill enough to activate her gag reflexes. Gross or not, the blood replenished her system. She still felt off her game, but the traces of poison were overwhelmed, and she felt alert again. She noticed Josef prepping Mick's meal, and when she was done, filled the needle she'd used too. Why not? It wasn't like vamps could transmit disease.

Coraline snatched them out of Josef's hands. "I'll take them to him."

Josef rolled his eyes. "Reality check, sweetheart. Playing Florence Nightingale won't give your dysfunctional love story with Mick a happy ending."

"Thanks for the advice, couldn't manage without it," she tossed over her shoulder carelessly. She opened Mick's freezer lid, absently lowering the temperature a few degrees. She gently slid the needle under his skin, injecting the elixir of life into the vein at his wrist. She repeated the process, sighing. "Now, we wait."

They waited, then waited some more. Josef went into Mick's office to check his stocks, make a string of phone calls, barking orders. Coraline sat cross-legged by the freezer for two hours straight, ears strained, body poised for action. Mick would live; she could feel him healing, and relief tumbled down on her, but nothing other than an easing of posture visibly showed that. Coraline was never one to wear her heart on her sleeve.

"Here's another cocktail for him," Josef announced brusquely, shoving another dose at Coraline. "Feed him."

"So, what happened to you? One minute Mick's telling me you're dead, the next I see on the news you aren't." The question was absent-minded as she infused another pint of blood into Mick.

"I guess we both outfoxed the grim reaper. After enough years, you learn to get slippery," Josef mused tiredly. It was near dawn, and they both could feel it, especially Coraline. "Happy I'm live and kicking?"

"Fishing for compliments, huh? Are we going to hold hands now and get in touch with our inner feelings?" When he flipped her the middle finger, she laughed. "Yes, Josef, I'm glad you're still around. Lucky for you, it hadn't really sunk in yet, so I didn't get around to grieving. If you let me shed unnecessary tears, you'd pay, and pay through the nose." She moved to close the freezer lid.

"I'm shaking in my stylish shoes," Josef shot back. Neither of them were really in the mood for banter, it just beat the alternative. Luck was on their side, because Mick moaned softly, stirring. Coraline watched him slowly fight his way to consciousness intently, lowering the lid again, numbness seizing her. This was it.

"Nice of you to join us," Josef announced dryly, trying to cover up the rush of emotion Coraline could see trying to knock him over the head.

"Hurts," Mick croaked, eyes still closed.

"Well, it's reasonable that it'd be a tad uncomfortable considering you took a silver bullet to the head, pal," Josef drawled.

"Silver," Mick echoed groggily. He opened his eyes, blinked a few times, his stare landing directly on Coraline, who was standing over him. "Hungry." As hurt as he'd been, even with three injections, that was to be expected.

"Damn, but he's eloquent," Josef quipped, desperate to add levity.

"I'll get him something," Coraline offered quietly, grateful for the numbness blocking the torrent of feeling.

"Don't go," Mick weakly reached out for her, his hand falling heavily to his side again. "Stay, please."

What? That wasn't like Mick at all. Her mind worked furiously before coming up with the eternal answer. The cure, Mick's shiny gold dream of humanity, always the same old dance and song. He wanted his cure. "Spare me." Coraline's two words were two ice knives, and a kind of hurt settled in Mick's expression. Hurting a man was as much of a calling to Coraline as photography, but with Mick, any hurt she'd ever inflicted cut her twice as deep. That was a mighty lot of cuts, she knew. "You want to feed or don't you?"

Mick reached out again, managing to brush her arm with his hand, the contact whisper soft. Josef made a sharp noise of impatience, and left the room to do it himself. Mick's smoky eyes swept over her, taking her in, processing. _Probably trying to figure out why I didn't leave him in the fire,_ she figured. Mick had once accused her of not having a heart, and if that were true, he would have been screwed.

"Want to know…" Mick rasped.

"Why you're alive?" Coraline guessed, taking his hand in hers. "Just take it easy, okay? You need-"

"I got to know…who are you?" The question had Coraline's gaze cutting abruptly to his. At first, she took it as a joke, a kind of 'Okay, who are you and what have you done with my ex-wife' type of thing. But she saw his expression was confused, his eyes blank, no kidding around. Holy shit…

"Oh, Josef, what were you saying about side-affects?"


	5. Charades

Hey, everybody. Sorry this so long to post. Honestly, I had a terrible's case of writer's block, and the scanty feedback didn't exactly help. Don't get me wrong, I'm not bitching, no one's obligated to give me reviews, but it does help the inspiration flow faster. I did appreciate the two reviews I got on the last chapter. Intimate Stranger, the reason this got out as soon as it did was because you've reviewed every single chapter, and I did promise you updates. Okay, enough of my babbling, onto the story!

**1950's LA**

"Don't be insulting," Coraline snarled at her old friend. As fond as she was of him, it was highly tempting to hurl him through her window.

"You are," he taunted, repeating his earlier slur. "You're scared."

"I'm bored with him, that's all," Coraline countered disdainfully, her dark eyes venomous. In some ways, she and Charles behaved more like siblings than past lovers, yet another reason why they could never revert back to the early days which had been brief.

"I wish I could believe that," Charles announced dramatically, lowering himself into a chair. "He's just another dippy musician, just another walking meal. But if you were simply bored with him, you'd toss him aside as you've done thousands of times with other unfortunate suckers. Why go through such lengths? Why the charade? Why the games? No, my dear, you aren't _bored_. You're spooked."

"If you don't shut your mouth, I'll shut it for you," she warned. As furious as she was with him and his big mouth, she was angrier with herself, because he was right. She was terrified, her, a woman who could reduce kings to whimpering masses, hardened killers to milk toast, was frightened. And of who? Mick St. John, a nobody in a nothing band, leading a nothing life. If it wasn't such a humiliating turn of events, she might have died of laughter.

That night of the party, while they'd downed champagne by the pool, she'd thought she'd had the upper hand. Hell, she'd had the upper hand, she just hadn't kept it. Her plan had been simple: seduction, dismissal. He'd take the bait because men were ruled by their penises, and once he'd proven himself the rule, not the expectation, she'd be free of him.

To both her irritation and delight, he hadn't cooperated. She'd seen his cock, hard and ready in the moonlight, throbbing to take her. They'd exchanged kisses, scorching and powerful, making her hotter than she'd been in years. But he'd stopped at kisses, stroking her hair, sweetly declining. He'd asked her out on a date…a _date_! The idea was beyond corny, past juvenile, but she'd been touched, thrown off guard. He'd pressed the advantage, and words of agreement had been out of her mouth before she knew they'd come.

"So, what part am I to play?" Charles asked, wearing a damnable smirk.

"Just sit there and keep your mouth shut. If you think you're capable," she hissed sarcastically, moodily handing him the martini she'd prepared.

"Just keep the liquor flowing, doll, just keep it flowing." He cocked his head consideringly, sighing dramatically. "Too bad you dismissed your staff for the night; I kind of had a hankering for that little morsel, Darcelle, your new maid."

"My employees are not freshies," she informed him curtly. "And even if they were, I wouldn't share. You ruined the last toy I gave you."

"It's not my fault the twit fell in love with me. I was just looking for a piece of tail, and if she'd had half a brain, she would have capitalized on what little advantage she had." It was true; Charles could be the epitome of generous, even to mere conveniences. "And then she has to fall into the clutches of feminine hysteria and kill herself. Completely unnecessary, and a waste of a perfectly lovely cocktail."

Coraline thought of her late seamstress, Monique, and felt a twinge of regret. It really was a pity. She'd worked wonders with a sewing machine, bringing Coraline's designs to vivid life. And, though not quite as important, she'd been tolerable company as well; one of the few females Coraline had ever met that wasn't somewhat devious or catty. Oh, well. It was a lesson well learned anyway. Keep valued employees away from dear ol' Charles.

"Just let me change into something more comfortable," she told him. _And more becoming for this little farce._

A few minutes later she returned with his snack, draped in her pink robe, a sample of Monique's handiwork, wearing matching lingerie that molded to her skin beneath, the lace pecking out beneath the robe's silken protection. Suddenly, her senses were altered. Mick. Mick was here.

"Judging from the comical expression on your face, it's safe to assume lover boy has arrived."

"Just do as I told you or that glass will be shoved so far up your ass you won't be able to sit for weeks," Coraline threatened, baring her fangs before letting them retreat.

The knock at the door signaled her to move, and with the effortless glide she'd acquired so long ago, she made her way over, ever the enigma, even to herself. The sight of him filled her with a bittersweet feeling that was futile. She noticed he'd worn a suit, nothing like the custom ones Charles strutted around in. Mick St. John, she suspected from his manner, only wore suits for church and supremely special occasions. The fact that he'd worn it tonight cut at her heart. Again, futile.

He smiled. He was such the innocent in spite of his stint overseas, so out of his depth. She covered her regret with a small smile. He returned the smile, so blind! "Why'd you leave the other night? We were just starting to have fun."

Ah, yes, their date. He hadn't escorted her in the style she was accustomed to, but he'd treated her the way no man had ever treated her before, even in the height of her thrall over them. Like a lady. That's when she knew she had to backtrack, to terminate the game before she lost.

Mick moved forward, leaning in to kiss her. Her muscles coiled with the effort it took not to yank his warm body into hers, to mesh their mouths, letting the pleasure of the kiss wash over them until he was moaning for more. Instead, she pulled back, feigning confusion. "What night?" It wasn't simply playing dumb; she had no intention of letting Charles know she actually went out on a…date! It'd take her a hundred years to live it down. She could all but feel Charles' glee all the way across the room.

Maybe Mick did too, because his eyes finally took in his surroundings. She knew how it looked, how she'd designed it to look. Candles were lit, she was dressed seductively, and Charles looked snug as a bug in a rug, although without vampire senses, in the dim lighting, she knew Mick couldn't see his face. Hurt and humiliation warred for a second in her human's eyes, and for the first time in so long, Coraline took no satisfaction in having put those sentiments in a man's eyes. In fact, she felt her stomach twist into knots.

"I got it," Mick told her, voice tight, controlled. "That's fine." Then he was walking away, and a surge of affection washed through her. She stared after him, proud of the way he'd handled himself. Maybe…maybe she'd been wrong. Maybe this one could be for keeps. First, she had to see what he was made of. She closed the door, the knots easing, the small smile returning.

**Modern LA, April 11****th**

On the surface, Josef Kostan was a vamp without a care in the world, a billionaire playboy who loved to get laid or close a lucrative deal. There was some truth to that, but the reality was more complicated, more painful, which is why he encouraged his outrageous reputation.

Today, you'd never know he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, internally shaken by the silver's affect on Mick. He was reasonably sure his younger friend would recover, but there wasn't exactly a database of answers available. Most vampires who suffered from silver gunshot wounds usually didn't live to tell the tale. If the bullet hadn't exited through his temple, the silver would have poisoned his brain, killing him in less than an hour.

Josef arrived at Beth's, 8 o'clock sharp, just as he'd promised. She answered the door with hair that could masquerade as a bird's nest, her pajamas frumpy, and her eyes were bloodshot.

"My, don't you look as pretty as a fresh cut flower," he drawled as he eased around her, strolling into her apartment.

"Blow yourself," she snarled.

"And my, charming to boot. It must be my lucky day."

"Look, Josef, I was up until 3:00, having it out with Maureen. My job's hanging by a thread, I'm just lucky she didn't fire me on the spot." She glared at him, pausing like she expected an apology or something.

"I don't remember holding a gun to your head, forcing you to accept my offer. Last chance to change your mind, sweetheart." She kept glaring at him, but was noticeably silent. "Wonderful. Now, get dressed. I'm not going to be seen in public with someone who looks like crap."

"Don't hold back," she bitched, stomping to her bedroom. He sighed, rubbing his temples. The façade was wearing on him, and he was half tempted to drop the whole thing, just come clean with her about Mick. But he had his reasons for keeping silent; it was the smartest route, and the one that suited his agenda the most.

First of all, Sara was tops with him, even trumping his brotherly love for Mick, and at the moment, Beth was his best shot of finding a possible cure for Sara, for returning the woman he yearned for, even when he was sleeping. Sure, he could have gone it alone, he had a promising lead, but Beth already proved a valuable asset. If she knew the score, she'd bail on him so fast, his head would spin.

Second of all, Mick, for all intents and purposes, was healthy. Brain damaged, sure, but that, if vampiric patterns held, would reverse itself, given enough time. Coraline would take care of him, she'd saved his life for crying out loud, when it would have been more predicable to let him burn the way he'd let her burn once. Sure, she might use Mick's temporary condition to her advantage, to reel him back in, but that'd be the worst she'd do to him. As messed up of a love as it might have been, Coraline did love Mick, and he was safe with her.

Third of all, Beth's influence on Mick was just as destructive on Mick as Coraline's was, in a totally opposite way. 22 years ago, Beth had triggered a change in Mick, a revival of his self-hatred, his rejection of his own nature. It wasn't Beth's fault, she was just a kid, but she'd changed him, and as an adult, that influence was working overtime. Frankly, Mick needed to man up, and grow a pair of fangs, and with Beth's influence in the picture, that'd never happen, he was too obsessed with being a good man for her to be proud of.

Not that Mick needed to lose his morals, exactly, he just needed to loosen up a little, and embrace the night. If anybody could help Mick get in touch with his inner vamp, it was Coraline. With the slate wiped clean, maybe she'd have her shot.

And last, but not least, if Beth and Coraline came into contact, it'd get ugly, ending in serious bodily damage. This time, Beth would end up on the losing end, as Coraline had cashed in her human card, and was back to immortal and loving it. For the reporter's own sake, he needed to keep her as far away from the situation as possible.

Dressed in a pair of hip hugging jeans, and worn tank-top, Beth exited her bedroom 45 minutes later, hair glossy, make-up light but faultless. It didn't quite mask her fatigue, but it was a huge improvement. Her beauty was working over-time.

"Better," he appraised briskly. "Publicly presentable, anyway." He suspected men fell all over themselves to compliment her, hell he'd already thrown his own into the ring when he'd first met her. The woman's self-confidence was healthy enough, he suspected, it didn't need his tender care. "I'll just have the driver carry your things to the car."

"Big of you," she snipped. He just smiled smoothly, and gestured to the door. Her little attitude held no sway over him, and like a child's sulking, the less of a reaction it was given, the better.

"Why bother with the limo?" She asked once they were outside, waving a hand at the enormous vehicle. "It's just to the airport."

"Because I own it, therefore should get some use out of it." He made a single curt gesture to the driver, who leaped out of the limo. "Keys," he ordered Beth, who reluctantly handed them over. Josef tossed them to the chauffeur.

"It's number…" she started to say, but trailed off when he bounded into the building. "What's he gonna do, sniff my place out?" she demanded irritably.

"He's not a vampire, so I doubt it. I simply communicated the location of your apartment to him, and provided he hasn't come down with Alzheimer's, he won't have any problems."

"Why isn't he a vampire?" Curiosity, the driving force of her life, glittered in her pretty eyes. "I mean, I know why he isn't a vampire, no one's turned him, I mean why wouldn't you hire just vampires?"

Josef opened the door for her, smirked. "My dear girl, I enjoy many vices, but prejudice is not one of them. Who am I to hold an individual's species against him? It'd be just as bad as holding a woman's gender against her. Take journalism for example. Not so long ago, it was a boy's only club."

"Point and match," Beth conceded, smiling for the first time this morning, gracefully sliding into her seat. "You may be a hedonistic smart ass, but you're an opened-minded hedonistic smart ass."

"So many compliments in one observation, however do I cope?" He shut the door behind her, inhaling the crisp morning air. It was overcast today, just the way he liked it. Hope filled him, restoring him, lifting some of the weight off his shoulders. Somehow, he knew that after so many years, he'd finally find his Sara again, that he'd return to LA with her by his side.


	6. Beginnings

**New York**

In the limo, on route to her temporary residence, Beth observed her passing surroundings, determined not to gawk like a tourist. Josef ignored her, as he had the whole flight, typing furiously on his laptop, running off a string of phone calls, or looking over balance sheets. He had so many facets to his personality, it was boggling. He could be the diplomat one minute, the aggressive shark the next, and then he was the self-indulgent playboy.

Who was the real Josef Kostan? The tender lover he'd been with Sara? The sardonic, somewhat playful vampire he was with her? The loyal critic of a pal he was with Mick? The cut-throat businessman he was with business rivals and associates alike? The hedonistic benefactor he was with his harem? Was any of it an act on his part, or was he all of those aspects for real?

Josef Kostan wasn't the real him, anyway, she reminded herself. Or at least, not the only him. He'd been Charles Fitzgerald once. How many other identities had he gone through? What did that do to somebody, switching Id's, switching backgrounds, just as casually as somebody did their wardrobe?

_And if you were a shrink, this would be fascinating material. But since you're a reporter, just stick to the story he's paying you to look into,_ she told herself, flipping out her own laptop. "Silver, silver…let see…ah, here we go…" she muttered, going to google first, and branching outwards.

His hand flew to the mouth piece, giving her a black look. "Do you mind? Your blathering is distracting."

"Excuse me?" Beth, who hadn't even been aware she'd said anything out loud, nailed him with a glare of her own. "I do not blather."

"I don't care if full fledged Shakespearean soliloquies come flying out of your mouth on a second's notice, I require silence. This deal, if blown, is gonna cost me $50 million potentially, so unless you have that kind of cash floating around in a Swiss bank account somewhere, kindly shut up."

"Listen to me, you asshole," she hissed, pushed past her patience. "You didn't _buy_ me, you _hired_ me. Maybe everybody else hops when you snap your fingers, I don't."

"Harry, I'll have to call you back. I've got a little insect problem." Beth gasped, knowing exactly what Josef was referring to. Her hands itched to smack him one, even if it would be just an exercise in stupidity and potential humiliation. Attention fully on her, he gave her a look that sent chills through her. It wasn't rage, wasn't malice, was something far more deadly. "I'm only going to say this once. Do not make yourself a nuisance, do not cross me. You don't want me as an adversary."

"I'm not scared of you," Beth countered, even as she wondered if she should be.

"That can be remedied," Josef warned her.

"Oh, what, you'll make me an offer I can't survive?"

"There's thousands of things you can do to a person, a thousand ways to wreck them without laying a single finger on them." Something about the way Josef sounded told her that he personal experience on the subject, and was ruthless enough to back it up. Being Mick's friend was only going to get her so far, she sensed.

"I'll take that under advisement," she said steadily. She wasn't about to shake in her boots, but didn't plan on taking this any further. She may have had guts, but her brain worked fine, thanks.

"You do that." Then he was back to business, back to ignoring her. She reminded herself she'd have to watch her step. Josef had been around 400 years and had probably committed some pretty ruthless acts. He wouldn't kill her, out of friendship's sake with Mick, or even physically hurt her, but he'd make her life a living hell, she just knew it.

Before she could return to her research in earnest, they were parking. She looked out the window, and at the building she'd be calling home. "I'm going to be stopping by tomorrow. As a token of my good faith, I'll secure a lawyer for you, someone unconnected to me, if you'd prefer. I want all your energy on fulfilling your end of the bargain."

"Fine. I would prefer unconnected, actually." Beth was beginning to feel jet-lagged, and hunting down a good lawyer was the last thing she felt like doing before tomorrow. Besides, she'd taken a lot of business law in college, probably didn't even need an attorney. Still, when dealing with Josef; always go for the safety net.

"If you like. Also, as far as anyone knows, you're here as my lover."

"What?!" Beth shrieked, recoiling as if he'd grabbed her breast.

"Must you screech? Good Lord, woman, do you have any idea how sensitive my ears are? It feels like you just stabbed them." He held his head, grimaced. "The next time you do that to me, I swear I'll smack you. I'm not the white knight Mick is good at playing. Why should I be the only one in pain?"

Beth wondered if that was an empty threat or not, but there were bigger issues at stake. "I'm _not_ your lover."

"Well, thank heaven for small favors," Josef retorted. "Of course not. But as far as anyone knows, we're hopelessly in lust. I don't want anyone questioning your motives for being here. I won't have this search jeopardized."

"But-but-but…" Beth stuttered, feeling dizzy. "Vampires will be able to smell that we're not…we're not…"

"Humans won't," Josef pointed out. "As for vampires, let them assume you're wagging your tail at me, making me work for it. It's something you'd do. It will involve some heavy making out, just to put enough of my scent on you to sell the idea. I'm willing to make the sacrifice."

"You're willing-something I'd do…" Rage was building inside Beth, and she was tempted to yell in his ear again, just on principle. Instead, she shoved the door open. The driver was already trotting in the building with her luggage. "I hate you," she hissed, and slammed the door shut. She could have sworn she faintly heard him laughing.

**LA-Hours earlier**

Coraline stared at the door Josef just shut behind him, conflicted. It wasn't an easy spot for a woman like her to be in. Coraline was a vampire who knew what she wanted and went after it, down and dirty if she needed to. Indecisive crap was for the birds. But now, she felt that way, and didn't know how to handle it. She didn't know how to handle anything about this whacked situation.

Josef had been zip in the help department, running off his big mouth about golden opportunities and it was her fault Mick's memory was running on empty, since Mick had been hurt on her watch. "Who the hell asked him to stay, I'd like to know?" she muttered, thinking of her ex-husband, the gallant idiot, standing by the side of a woman he trusted about as far as he could throw her party house, preceding any fires.

There was enough of the predator in Coraline to see Josef's point about golden opportunities. Mick was vulnerable, hers for the molding, hers for the seducing. The rest would come easy; she could have him wrapped around her little finger in weeks. The Coraline of 22 years ago would have already been plotting it out, step by step.

Things changed, and even vampires changed. Slower than humans, they had time to be inflexible, but even they weren't invulnerable to modification. Now Coraline wanted Mick as a willing partner, to accept her finally as _his_ mate. Her, not blondie. If returning to the mortal coil was Mick's eternal quest, then finally getting his love back was hers.

Not to mention, Mick's memory loss was a temporary condition, not a permanent one. Sure, there was the odd chance he wouldn't get his memory back, that the silver did irreparable damage, wiped the hard drive clear, sort to speak. Still, as little contact as the actual silver had with his brain, she doubted it. If she manipulated the situation, Mick would just have more ammo to hurl in her direction, more proof that she was evil incarnate.

_Just because you're playing it straight doesn't mean you can't play it smart,_ she told herself. She could get Mick to love her, or realize she was loveable, anyway, if she didn't screw it up. That meant no short cuts, no deception. She only had one shot to do this thing right. Even then, there were no guarantees that Mick wouldn't start pining for Beth the second the hard drive kicked back into gear. So what? It'd be the exact spot she was in when she started out, so the gamble wasn't too risky from an objective prospective.

Strolling back through the gray door, she offered Mick a sympathetic smile, her eyes warmly affectionate. She was determined to go into this without her usual masks, without feigning indifference. She felt exposed, the same way most women felt when stripped naked. Of course, nudity was never much of a problem for courtesans, retired or otherwise. Mick, she noticed, studying him, seemed more comfortable in his own skin than she could ever remember, human or otherwise.

_Leave it to him for amnesia to be the best vacation he's had in years, _she reflected internally. "Still hungry?"

"Yes," he answered unapologetically. "But I don't want you to go yet. Stay, please?"

"If you like." Mick wanting her presence, not just being addicted to it, was a thrill that no hunt could ever match. She knew she was probably beaming like an idiot, but couldn't care less. "How's the head?"

"Better. Not that high of a bar, but…" he trailed off, taking her in. "We know each other, don't we?"

And the award for understatement of the century goes to…"You could say that. It's…a complicated relationship." She paused, seeing if he sensed how a mixed bag that was, how mercurial both subject and relationship unto itself was.

"Don't leave me in suspense." His tone was light, but there was real curiosity there, a real need for more. This was where she had to tread carefully, walking in a landmine.

"Its…look, I don't want to bullshit you. 'Complicated' doesn't even sum it up, and not always for the good. Still, I want you to judge for yourself. When you remember, I want you to make up your own mind."

To her surprise, he didn't fight her. "Can I at least have your name?"

"Coraline." Morgan had just been a temporary façade, a quick fix. She'd thrown a fake I.D. together, hired some people to back up her story over the phone, and viola! Enough to get by for a couple years. It had been more time consuming than difficult at this stage in her life.

"Pretty," he commented softly, the look in his eyes appreciative, and she doubted it had anything to do with her name. "I bet this sounds weird, but what do people call me?"

"Mick. Always Mick. Mick St. John, as a matter of fact."

"This is my place, isn't it? I can't…feel enough of you here." His damaged mind was working furiously; you didn't even have to know him to tell. "Who's the prick?"

"Prick? What…Oh, naturally you mean Josef." A grin tugged at her lips. She leaned her body against the wall, wondering if she should drop a mention about the two of them being best buds. Nah. Silver poisoning and complete memory loss was enough to process, no need to be mean. "Makes an interesting first impression, huh?"

Mick snorted, running his palm over his face, sarcasm running free out of his mouth. "Don't tell me, let me guess. He's got a heart of gold underneath, and being a jackass is just a cover to hide his sensitive feelings?"

Coraline chuckled, enjoying herself. She'd missed Mick's humor; there hadn't been enough to laugh about in their marriage. Fight and mate over, sure, but laughter? Not exactly a popular feature on the itinerary. "Far be it for me to probe into the mind of Josef Kostan. I've been in some pretty freaky places, but I know my limits. He's a good friend, though; I'll give him that, if you don't mind the commentary. And yes, this is your bachelor's pad. There's an office adjoining."

Flopping onto his back, Mick propped his head up on his left forearm. "Office, eh? Efficient. What trade do I run in?"

"Private detective." And now, Coraline mused, he had the mystery of his career to solve. His own life. "Just think, you're actually paid to watch people have sex. It's like live porno."

"You make it sound so noble," he commented dryly. "There's more to the job than that, I'm guessing."

"Details, details." She made an airy motion of dismissal, grinning at him, and he grinned back.

"Well, being a snoop gonna's come in handy if I'm going to figure things out. Will you stay with me? I know it's probably a lot to ask, a woman like you, you know, probably has better things to do than baby-sit, and-"

"I don't mind crashing here." Coraline moved over to the side of the freezer, leaning down over him, reaching down to stroke his cheek. He arched into her touch life an affectionate cat, grazing her palm with his lips. Electricity danced across her skin, and she had to bite back a purr. Her eyes were devouring his naked body, fantasies of them naked and tangled flashing before her eyes.

_Get a grip! _She snapped internally, impatient with herself. It was just her palm, for crying out loud, not her breast. Gently, she extracted her hand, winking flirtatiously. "I'll just get the blood, and then, you'd better try to get some more sleep. You'll heal faster that way."

"You were hurt, too," he ventured hesitantly, eyes skimming down to her thigh. "I…I can smell, _what_ is that?"

"Silver. It reeks, doesn't it?" He didn't verbally answer, the face he made said it all. "Yes, I was hurt, but not as bad as you." With a dip in an ice bath, a few hours of sleep, it'd be a distant memory. The look of raw concern on his face moved her in a way only he could. "I'm okay, Mick. I've had worse, trust me."

"I can also detect your blood…and that doesn't reek. It's…intoxicating." He gave her a heated look. "Is there anything you need?"

Dangerous question to ask when the vampire of her naughty dreams was gloriously nude, just ripe for the taking, a hungry look in his eyes. "Uh…no, not a thing. I'll just run an ice bath, conk out for a few hours." She saw his eyes wander over her, an automatic reaction, and she knew he was picturing her nude, lounging in the ice, and it was getting to him. Mick had once said fidelity had never been their problem. Well, neither had desire.

Before she could revert to form and attack him, she turned on her heel, hurrying into the kitchen. Again, she added her own blood to the mix, but was careful not to overdo it. The bullet hadn't damaged Mick's powers of observation, and his basic personality was still in tact. It'd disturb him if he sensed she'd done damage to herself on his behalf, and the last thing he needed to feel right now was guilt. In fact, Coraline was voting for Mick having a vacation from guilt.

Coraline whipped up the cocktail, mixing it with the efficiency of a bartender. She could have injected him with a needle, but wanted him to connect with his inner vamp. Orally consuming blood was more personal, more suited to the vampire's nature. She poured it into a cup, stirring it briskly. "As good as it's gonna get," she muttered, returning to Mick.

"That's your blood," he was quick to point out, eyes searching for the wound.

"There's some of it in there, yeah. Don't bother looking. Vampires heal quick," she informed him, handing him the glass. None of the questions he'd asked had centered around vampirism, he just seemed to be going with the flow.

He downed his blood, and she could all but feel the contentment flow through him. "Mmmm, your blood's delicious, but whatever you mixed in with it…kind of leaves a lot to be desired."

Delicious? Most vamps would take human blood over the vamp variety any day of the week, but in some cases, with an older vampire with discriminating tastes, their blood could be appetizing. And compared to bagged blood…well, enough said.

"It's not that the blood's bad, it's just when you bag the stuff, and let it sit, it get's stale, and looses a lot of it's flavor. Vampire blood has a lot more kick than the human variety…but its all energy…no real nourishment." She took the glass from him, feeling exhaustion crowd in on her. It had been a long day, and it was almost nine.

"Coraline?" He seemed to be testing her name out, the quirk of his lips indicating he liked how it felt on his lips. She liked it, too. "Not that I'm trying to be an ingrate, but do you think we could skip the bagged stuff in the future?"

"Why, Mick, you've read my mind." Delight transformed her features, a sly glint in her eyes. "A hunt will be just the thing."

Curiosity, anticipation, and weariness came over Mick. "I…I don't want to hurt anyone…"

"We won't hurt any innocents," Coraline was fast to assure him. "When you bite someone, you ingest their character with their blood, you get a feel for them, you know? Trust me, no one's going down that doesn't have it coming."

"I could feel you, too," Mick murmured. Coraline froze, wondering if she'd already lost him. "Not very clear…but I know you're not evil. I think, somehow, you've done bad things…but you're not evil, Coraline. You wouldn't have saved me if you were evil."

"What makes you think I saved you?" His analysis unnerved her, and she felt her defenses start to slam into place. She forced them down, determined to stay open to him. Still, if he knew that much already…

"We're both hurt, I was in no condition to drag myself out of danger, and I can smell the smoke. Just your basic deduction." His eyes cut to hers, sharp and alert, full of a tenderness she'd hadn't seen in so long. Her heart was crying out for him, but she steeled herself into staying put. "Thank you."

"Oh, don't thank me. If our positions were reversed, you'd have done the same thing." _After all, we wouldn't want the cure to be lost, now would we?_ She thought bitterly. Of course, Mick would have dumped her off with Josef if she'd been the one who got a silvered brain. Taking care of her would cut into his hand-holding time with Beth.

"Granted, but…taking care of me is above and beyond." His eyes shone with appreciation. Before she could come up with any kind of answer, he inclined his head towards the door. "I can feel how tired you are. Get some shut-eye, huh?"

"You, too," she told him, a ridiculous sense of triumph whipping through her system. She closed his lid, wondering he could feel it. She'd been empty all these years without him, taking the occasional lover to curb her appetite, all of them pitiful substitutes for her heart's mate. Now, she assessed hopefully on her way to Mick's bathroom, maybe she'd get him back.


	7. Steps

Ah, five reviews! I'm happy as a clam. Nightcap, Mick forgetting he was a vampire might have been fun, but didn't really fit in this story, would have slowed down the pacing. Besides, most amnesia patients don't forget they're human, don't need their species explained to them. Aria, I take it as a supreme compliment that I'm starting to sway people to the 'dark side' so hope this keeps your interest.

Intimate Stranger, again, your support is awesome. I'm having a blast writing Mick sans memory, although I'm doing my best to not abandon his basic personality. Enjoy yourself!

**LA** **11:05 PM**

He watched his prey, his for the taking. Her ebony hair was pulled up into a sassy ponytail, her slender body was pumped into a jog, those killer legs exposed in a pair of shorts, encasing her delicious ass. He'd fuck her from behind, with her face in the dirt. That's what all those bitches deserved, their mouths filled with dirt. This one was darker than he liked, he liked them with pale, fragile skin, and her tits were too damned small. He liked voluptuous breasts to bite and suck. Still, she was too hot, too brazen to ignore. He'd teach her a lesson. She wouldn't be so quick to tease next time.

The rapist didn't notice the second figure, the one watching him with tensing muscles and growing hunger. And of course, he couldn't see his intended victim's expression, the smirk, the sharp eyes. He did see her stop, swooping down, as if to tie rebellious laces back up. He sprung, attempting to tackle her to the ground.

He never knew what hit him. One minute he was on her back, fingers ready to tear her cotton T-shirt aside, the next, he was flying through the air, landing several feet away. He saw the jogger stand, strut over to him. "Wanna play?" she cooed angelically.

He gained his feet, but before he could anticipate, she landed a roundhouse kick to his stomach, sending him up against one of the many trees in the deserted park, not knowing this tigress had tracked him for weeks. "Well, Harry, you've been a very bad boy. How many women is it that you've raped, 12 altogether, right? What was I, lucky 13? Oh, please, don't waste my time. Don't bother denying it. I know the police haven't been able to pin you to anything solid, but I can put their minds at ease. You're retiring."

"Permanently," a male voice agreed, stepping out of the shadows.

"See, darling?" Turning her back on Harry, never taking her ears or nose off of him, Coraline walked to Mick side, ran a caressing hand up his chest. "I arranged some entertainment."

Harry, while not the brightest bulb on the shelf, was enough of self-preservationist to understand he was in deep shit. The little slut was strong, impossibly strong, and now that lover boy was here, he didn't stand a chance. Swallowing his pride, he dashed in some blind direction, his only goal to live, to get away.

"Patience," Coraline chided carelessly when Mick started to bound after him. "This a large park and the moron's going the wrong way. Let him sweat a little, like he made all his victims sweat."

"What a scumbag," Mick growled, his inherent protectiveness of the victimized coming out full force. His human visage was nowhere in sight, he was reveling in his vampiric side. Coraline felt a surge of delight wash over her. Finally, _finally_!

"An understatement. Now," she instructed, every inch the mentor he'd never let her be before, even when she was giving him the pitiful little instruction he would accept. "Chase him, make sure he knows, put don't go in for the kill…right away. The more fear that builds up, the tastier the snack."

"You coming?"

The thought of hunting side by with Mick side was a fantasy Coraline had harbored for years, but tonight was for Mick, for him to assert himself as a predator, something long over-due. "Not tonight, it's all you, baby."

A mixed look of disappointment and exhilaration transformed Mick's face, and then, he was a blur of speed, a glorious streak against the night. Coraline trailed behind, close enough to enjoy the show, but far enough away to let this belong to Mick alone. She inhaled deeply, the aroma of Harry's fear and Mick's adrenaline enthralling.

After ten minutes of toying with his victim, wearing Harry to a wheezing, trembling mass, Mick hauled the bastard over to Coraline, his fangs bared, claws extended, the razor sharp points pressing against his victim's throat with just enough restraint to avoid breaking the skin. "Why, Mick, look what you've caught," Coraline exclaimed with mock surprise. "A midnight snack."

Harry was pleading and blubbering at the same time. Mick tossed him to the ground. "Not so fun when you're the one crying is it, huh?" Mick hissed, crouching down.

"They're asking for it!" Harry whined through his tears. "I was just…just…taking 'em up on it-"

"Wrong answer," Mick announced grimly, letting his fangs rip into Harry's throat. Coraline knew he'd taste Harry's memories, feel the force of his crimes echo in himself. Snarling in rage and disgust, Mick sucked hard at the wound, devouring life itself. Coraline watched with harsh joy, her mind's eye picturing her own rapist being drained, writhing in agony. It took longer than it strictly needed to, Mick was prolonging the process, letting Harry get his own dose of terror, humiliation, and helplessness.

Alas, all good things have to come to an end, Harry's miserable life faded, leaving an empty shell. Roughly wiping his mouth, Mick let the carcass fall to the ground with a soft thud. Mick crouched over what had been Harry, and Coraline instinctively knew he was a little uneasy at the savage pride and gratification that came from a good kill. He looked at Coraline in askance.

"Don't worry," she soothed, using tones of honey and velvet. "You just did the world a big favor." She sank to the ground next to him, stroking his hair lovingly.

"I know…I felt…God, Coraline, what I _felt_…his memories crawled inside me, like they were mine." He leaned absently into her touch. "He would have just kept going, like some disease. And it wasn't just the blood or taking out the trash, it was the kill; it was like the biggest high. I craved it just as much as the blood, and I want more. Don't let me-"

"Shh." Pressing a finger to his lips, she shook her head. "Mick, you're a vampire. Good intentions and noble goals are nice ideas, and you've got to use control, but we're predators. We hunt, we kill, it's our nature. You just make yourself crazy if you deny yourself." _Or just get in touch with inner misery, like you did,_ Coraline mentally added.

It was obvious he was grasping for the answers, trying to claw his way to understanding. His hand flew to hers, easing her hand from his mouth to his cheek. "We don't have to kill?"

"Have to, no, and not every night. There's _thousands_ of vampires on the planet. You think if we offed a human a night that wouldn't get somebody's attention? It's all about balance. You can feed, and leave the donor no worse for the wear." She studied Mick, seeing she was getting through to him, but he wasn't completely settled.

He gripped the hand he was still holding tighter, gave her a look that pierced through her. "Don't let me turn into a monster."

The words jarred her. _You made me into a monster, _he'd told her once. "Never," she promised. "You could never be a monster, Mick. It's not in your nature." Set at ease, he nodded, nuzzled her neck an absent gesture of affection. She shivered, pulling away quickly. "Let's go home," she told him lightly, trying to counter the insanity burning inside her. "You need to get cleaned up before we can enter phase two of the evening. And I need to get out of this get-up."

"Me thinks the lady's picky about fashion," Mick teased.

"You thinks right," she countered dryly. "First, I've got to call the cleaner."

Mick's brow knitted together. "The what?"

"Ah, the fairy godmother of the vampire race. One flick of her wand, and corpses go poof. Wouldn't want to leave bodies just strewn around, right? The police would get involved, and that's just a pain in the ass all the way around. Because she's on hand, we don't have to worry about it." Seeing that Mick got the big picture, she dialed the number.

"The cleaner," came the brusque greeting.

"This is Coraline St. John. I need a clean-up." She gave the last name without thinking, cursed her stupidity when she saw Mick raise an eyebrow. Unfortunately, it was the name she'd gone by for almost 52 years in the vampire community, and the cleaner didn't do anonymous jobs.

There was a pause, and Coraline smirked. Ah, so she'd caught the unflappable garbage collector off balance. "I heard you went up in flames a long time ago."

"Can't believe everything you hear, you know that," Coraline countered. "So, do you want the job or not, or shall I go to your competitor?"

"No need to go overboard. Give me the details."

Rattling off some of the pertinent details, she noticed that Mick was observing her closely, questions swirling around in his brain. Well, she had to deal with it sooner or later, sooner was probably better. She listened to the price, scoffed. "For a single, intact corpse with barely any spillage? I don't know who you're used to dealing with lady, but I'm not coughing up 20 grand for that. Maybe I _should_ go to your competitor."

Shrewd enough to perceive Coraline wasn't just bluffing; the Cleaner immediately came up with a counter offer. "15 thousand and I'm giving you a break."

"Oh, save it for the newbies. I was thinking three thousand sounded more like it." Warming to the art of negotiation, Coraline winked at Mick.

"You know better than to think I'd drag out my crew for three grand," the Cleaner clipped out. "13,000."

"13,000," Coraline repeated thoughtfully. "I don't think so. Now, maybe I'd be willing to go for seven…"

"Ten thousand, and not a dollar less," the Cleaner announced, meaning it this time. Ah, now _that_ was more like it.

"Well, I don't like to haggle. 10 grand it is," Coraline agreed.

Strolling through the apartment door, both Coraline and Mick were in good moods, a sense of effortless camaraderie between them. Glancing around, it was almost scary to acknowledge that already, after less than 24 hours, it was beginning to feel like home. Earlier today, when Mick had still been sleeping, Coraline had run a few errands, which included grabbing enough stuff to make a comfortable nest in Mick's apartment. It was corny, but she'd felt a thrill having her things in his space, as if it made it theirs in some sense.

_What's next, china and curtains?_ She mocked herself, desperately trying to get some prospective. Yeah, Mick was having fun for now, enjoying her company, but she had to be realistic. Mick could spurn her when his memory came back, or start yammering about the cure, or want to go sniff Beth's sweater or something. Coraline wasn't going to let the rug get pulled out from under her, couldn't afford to bury her head in the sand.

More attuned to her than either realized, Mick's hand was on her arm, concern clouding his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Just thinking about something I'm not crazy about. You live long enough; you'll get some of that. It's not worth dwelling on."

"All right, I'll take your word for it. If you ever want to get it off your chest, I'm here to listen." Those eyes, as sincere as they'd been 55 years ago. His hand didn't drop away from her arm, and Coraline relished the contact, however chaste, however minimal. "Something tells me you have a thousand tales to tell."

"I'd have to change the names to protect the guilty." The comment earned a laugh out of him and it was music to her ears. "Go on up and take a shower, okay? The night's young, and I'm not done with you yet."

He paused on the stairs, expression pensive. "We were married once, weren't we?"

"A long time ago. It didn't end well," she told him honestly.

"Well, maybe we've got a chance to make that up." Mick's expression turned boyish, almost shy. "I mean, if you want, I don't want to be making assumptions like-"

Chuckling, Coraline waved her hand. "Trust me, I want. Now get your cute ass upstairs and take that shower." Mental images of that gorgeous body slick with water had pure lust rising in Coraline, and she swallowed hard. "Hurry up," she added huskily.

**New York**

Out of sheer spite, Beth refused to do any research her first day in New York. No contract, no work, she told herself. She considered flying home a thousand times, flipping him the middle finger on her way out. It'd feel good to let the bastard know he couldn't buy his way into everything.

Three things stopped her. One, Sara herself. The only mistake the girl had made was loving a vampire, of making a proactive choice. She'd been a good, decent person, and deserved a chance. If there was a cure, then Beth wanted to find it, for Sara, not Josef.

Two, Josef with Sara as opposed to without Sara was a more attractive option. Not only would she soften the cruel streak he had running through him, but he'd be very grateful, very willing to express his gratitude. He'd be Beth's preverbal genie, ready to make her wishes come true…if she could find the key to returning Sara.

Three, Beth knew that Josef, as much of a jerk as he could be, wasn't any real threat. He wouldn't sexually assault her, wouldn't subject her to anything raunchier than some of the scenes she'd done in college theatre. As much as it slapped at Beth's female pride, Josef didn't seem any more thrilled about making out with her than she was with him. He'd seemed impressed with her looks initially, but unlike most males, that seemed to wear off. He was just doing what he felt necessary to protect Sara's cure.

Still, whether Beth was staying or not, she was determined to enjoy her first day in New York. She ran herself a hot bath, soaking in the bubbles until the water ran cold. After that, she got dressed, and spent the $30,000 Josef had transferred into her account this morning. It wasn't like she had any bills; she could afford to really splurge for the first time in her life. She hit Saks, Nordstrom's, and Bloomingdale's, gobbling up the shoes of her dreams, Prada, Y3's, and Monolos.

Just when she was about to get her hot little hands on some of the fashion choices, Josef sent her a text. _Don't buy any wardrobe choices. Taste questionable. Enduring a shopping session with you day after tomorrow._ She growled at her cell phone, then took a look at the big picture. Why not let Josef foot the bill for some new clothes? More play money for her.

Having booked a lengthy massage earlier in the day, Beth headed over to the spa, enjoyed not only a much-needed rubdown, but got had a facial, and bought some beauty products. By the time she returned to her new residence, she was pleasantly exhausted. She put away her purchases, brushed her teeth, used the bathroom, and flopped on the luxurious four-poster bed. Literally as soon as her head hit the pillow, she was out like a light.

The next day, around 3:00 PM, Beth's cell phone rang, Josef's ID popping on the screen. "If you're not home, get there," Josef ordered without preamble. "I've got your lawyer and the contract."

"Hello, Josef, lovely to hear from you. Thanks for asking nicely. As a matter of fact, I just got in from some sight sighting. New York-"

"I'll be there in a half hour," Josef interrupted, ending the phone call. Exactly 30 minutes later, with an aristocratic woman by his side, a statuesque brunette that Beth pegged to be in her late 30's, early 40's. She presumed it was her lawyer.

"Jacqueline Steel," the woman introduced herself, thrusting her arm at Beth. Her handshake was so firm, it verged on painful.

Schooling her expression, Beth returned the handshake, nodding politely. "Beth Turner."

"Yes, I recognize the name. My associates in LA were very impressed by your work on BuzzWire. A little trashy for my tastes, but different strokes and all." After delivering the back-handed compliment, she handed Beth a file. "Take a few minutes to familiarize yourself with this. These are my credentials. There are several phone numbers to confirm that authenticity of these facts, but Mr. Kostan has already had me thoroughly checked out, I assure you. It seems as if he's really determined to act in your best interest."

"I wouldn't go that far," Josef drawled from the chair he'd planted himself in, having silently watched thus far. "Just didn't want any whining about double-crossing."

Beth had heard about the law firm Ms. Steel was based out of, _Keller and Daughters,_ a highly respected practice that was founded in Philadelphia in the 60's, one of the first to be dominated by women. The third generation of females had the reins, having expanded Keller and Daughters to a national level. Ms. Steel was of no relation, but was obviously a valued member of the team. Her credentials were impressive.

After double checking a few of the facts, as Ms. Steel had invited her to do, Beth closed the file, nodding. "Consider yourself hired."


	8. Rhythms

Okay, obviously this is departing from canon to a degree. Anything up to _Love Lasts Forever _remains, so yeah, Josh is dead, and Beth and Coraline have the same blood type. I may use some of the show's ideas, but I'm putting my own slant on them.

Wow, the response has been so inspiring. Sandrea and Kayla, glad to see more Mick/Coraline supporters. Welcome also, blood bound. Initimate stranger, as always, a big shout-out. Everyone else, thanks so much, and enjoy the story!

Oh, to all JoBe supporters, I think you'll like this one.

**New York**

When Josef took Beth shopping, she expected a lot of designer threads with prices the size of college educations. She should have remembered the cardinal rule when dealing with vampires, and especially Josef: Expect the unexpected. Driving her personally in a snazzy little sports car, Josef took them out of the main action of the city, to a cluttered stretch of little shops. Josef fed the meter some quarters, looking out of place in his usual Armani in this working class area.

For her part, Beth blended in, wearing jeans, a plain grey t-shirt from her college days, sporting a Stanford baseball cap, her only make-up some light lipstick and a dusting of foundation. If her plebeian look offended His Majesty, for once he kept his mouth shut. Without a word or a look of acknowledgement, Josef bounded across the street, forcing Beth into a jog if she was going to keep up.

Entering a shop simply titled Delaney's Place, the space they entered was cramped but immaculate, rows of clothes shoved together, with a counter and a couple of changing screens fighting for space in the mix. There was one other customer, a middle-aged woman, sorting through some blouses. The woman at the counter, about ten to fifteen years old than the customer, the owner of the place, Beth assumed, kept shooting her shopper annoyed looks. From Beth's own experience in retail during her high school and college days, she read the look loud and clear. Obviously, the lady was taking her sweet time, making a mess, hogging valuable store space, and not buying a single item.

The owner's scowl melted into a grin when she saw Josef. "Hey, good looking. Long time no see." She wrapped him into a bear hug, which Josef warmly returned.

_O-kay, _Beth thought incredulously. A _soft spot for the mortal ones? Where's a camcorder when you need one?_ Sara was one thing, but in this case, she doubted it was true love.

"Too long, Connie, too long." Giving a gentle squeeze around the waist, Josef pulled away, gesturing to Beth. "This is Beth Turner, the one I was telling you about. Beth, this is Connie Delaney, the best damned retailer in all of New York. Not to mention, a genius with a sewing machine."

"Trying to sweet talk me into slashing my prices, eh?" Connie's dark eyes glittered with amusement. "Like you can't afford the standard, Mr. Big shot." She patted his cheek, her smile for Beth friendly. "Hey, honey. Yep, it's just like Josef said, a real looker. I've got some dresses for you to try on. Don't worry, he already told me your size."

"Oh, really?" Beth raised her eyebrows at Josef. So, according to him, she was a looker, huh? Oh, and he knew her size. This was a lot to process all in one morning. "Well, I'm dying to see what you've got."

"Lucky girl. Well, I always said this one knows how to treat a gal." She winked; obviously under the impression Beth was Josef's new squeeze. Well, that was the message Josef wanted to send, it was just surprising that he was going so far as to dupe people like Connie. Still, knowing the Great and Mighty Kostan, he had his reasons.

It had been two days since Beth signed his contract. The process had taken two hours, Ms. Steel determined that Beth read over every line, every clause. It hadn't been a bad idea, but by the time it was over, Beth's head had been splitting with a headache. She wouldn't have put it past Josef to make it as dry and long-winded as possible, just to be a brat. She'd understood it well enough, but was just grateful she hadn't gone into business law after all. Obviously, not her thing.

Well, now it was over with, and the party was officially started. Since part of her job description was playing the part of a dutiful girlfriend, her and Josef were going to some shin-dig tonight of this billionaire insurance guy. Actually, from what Josef said, she welcomed it. There'd be a lot of vampires at this party, a chance to network, form some contacts. She was under Josef's protection now, and people would be a lot more willing to talk to her if she was a vampire's…whatever.

The first dress Beth tried on was a little number almost reminiscent of the 40's, with a beaded bodice that skimmed her collarbone, a belted waist, a slinky skirt, the material a midnight blue. She stopped, checked her reflection in the mirror, and then stepped out for inspection.

"Too dark…" Connie muttered thoughtfully, examining the whole picture. "The belt is too bulky, not for her."

"You read my mind," Josef replied, shaking his head. "Simply won't do. Next."

"Does anyone care what I think?" Beth retorted.

They shot her down in unison. "No."

"Didn't think so," she grumbled, not bothering to argue. As a matter of fact, she agreed with Connie's evaluation, but she wasn't about to admit it to him.

The next was a simple black top that molded to her skin, a forest green skirt that flowed around her legs, the velvet jacket matching. Beth emerged, expression defensive.

"It looks great on her." Josef's compliment surprised Beth, her eyes widening. "It's just not the right look. If this were a Christmas party at BuzzWire, or a cousin's sweet sixteen, she'd be a hit. But it won't hold up next to the competition. We gotta pull out all the stops."

"He's probably right." Beth sounded like she just gargled with vinegar. "Maybe we should take it anyway, just in case you have to take me out to something a little lower key…" Not to mention, it'd look great on camera when she got back to LA."

"Why not? At these prices, Connie's practically giving them away."

For the party, they ended up settling on an ice blue halter-top dress, the cut flirtatious but staying within the bounds, just a peek of cleavage, the hem brushing her knees. In the words of Josef: "Giving a nice preview without giving everything away." There was an ultra thin layer of glittering fabric sewn into the dress, so Beth sparkled subtly wherever she walked.

"That wasn't so bad," Beth commented cheerfully on the ride home, lacing her hands behind her neck.

Josef, of course, just had to get a crack in. "What were you expecting, the iron maiden?"

"Oh, I don't know. I just thought you'd drag me around for hours, shoot down every option until I had blisters on my feet." She had to admit, she hadn't been this nervous since her first web cast.

"Oh, yes, because it's my dream to be stuck on a shopping expedition with you. I couldn't possibly find a better way to fill in the hours."

"You don't have to be a jerk, Josef," Beth informed him.

There was a moment of silence, then: "You know what your problem is?"

Feeling another headache coming on, Beth rubbed her forehead. "I agreed to work for you?"

"No. You're used to men fawning over you, tripping over their feet because you've got a pretty face and a nice body. Mick's certainly gone out of his way to make sure your tender little feelings are treated with kid gloves. And we all know Josh-"

"Shut the fuck up, Josef!" Beth hissed. That subject was off-limits, her heart and conscience still too raw to deal with it. "That's below the belt even for you."

"Hit a nerve, didn't I? Fine, have it your way. We'll leave you to your ghosts." She started to say something, but he just verbally rolled over her. "The point is, reality's a bitch. You're not the hottest thing since porn. You're physically appealing, no doubt. Beautiful, I'll grant you. Well, be still my heart. Beauty's overrated, I'm surrounded by it all day."

"So being bored gives you license to verbally bitch slap?" Beth asked sarcastically.

"Who needs a license? People are what they are. As a reporter, I would think you'd understand that." There was nothing patronizing or snide in the comment, just matter-of-fact.

"Look, can't we just call a truce? You're not impressed with me, I'm not impressed with you, let's just call it even," Beth suggested. "We've got a common goal, let's just leave it there."

"As absolutely _thrilling_ as these little debates are, you may have a point. I presume you've started on your research? I'm not breathing down your neck, but I do expect updates."

"Nervous? I got us this far, I'll take us all the way," Beth assured him carelessly.

"Don't make empty promises, blondie," Josef warned her intensely. "Not where Sara's concerned. It won't go down well. You're good, but-"

"It might be too late," Beth finished, nodding. "Okay, point taken. But Josef, in a world where vampires play the stock market, anything's possible."

"Touché."

She filled him in on the research she'd already done. Admittedly, it wasn't exactly the smoking gun, but it was a start. It didn't take long for them to get back to Beth's place. Typically Josef, he just got out and headed inside, leaving Beth to cart her purchases in. "And they say chivalry's dead," she snapped when they were both inside.

"You arms don't look broken," he observed pleasantly. "Put them down and come here."

Instantly on her guard, Beth shot him a cautious look. "Why?"

"I need to put my scent on you."

"You make it sound so romantic." Resigned, she put her purchases down, trudged over to Josef. She closed her eyes, prepared to fantasize. His mouth settled over hers, firm and cool, taking her lips with a finesse that shouldn't have surprised her. She found herself responding, deepening the kiss on her own. His arms wound around her waist, drawing her in.

Heat crawled over Beth's skin, her hands restless over Josef's back. _Just playing a part, _her sluggish brain reassured her, even as she pressed her pelvis against his. Her lower abdomen clutched hard, a tell-tale sign. He felt so good, his body deliciously hard against hers. His hands slipped down, cupping her ass, hauling her tighter against him, forcing her to feel his raging hard-on.

Tossing her head back to gulp in some oxygen, she felt his lips graze her neck, then felt a sharp sting that quickly melted into mind-blowing sensation. "Oh, hell," she whimpered, feeling like her bones were going to melt. She could feel him draw her blood out, feel him suck at the tiny wound he'd given her, a sweet torture that threatened to spin her tattered control out the window altogether.

Disappointment battered her when he pulled away, her nails digging into his shoulder. He soothed her with erotic flicks of his tongue, simultaneously cleaning and enflaming her. She started squirming, trying to get some relief for the ache assaulting her. He gripped her hips, thrusting hard into her, the friction so sweet, but not enough thanks to her jeans and his slacks.

Josef's mouth claimed hers again, and she opened her mouth, welcoming his tongue inside, tangling her own against his. There was a little alarm in the back of her head that screamed: DANGER! She didn't feel like listening.

Laying her onto the sofa, his deft hand pulled her shirt out of the waistband, his fingers creeping up the soft skin of her belly. She arched her back, encouraging him north. She roughly pulled her mouth away, nibbling at his jaw, his ear, her eyes rolling back in her head as they grinded together harder. She swore she was going to come. Josef's growl was a constant hum in her ear, and she reveled in it. She would have been pissed if she was the only one this far gone.

White-hot pleasure gripped her when Josef's hand glided over her bra-clad breasts, molding the silk to the feverish skin, manipulating it over her nipples. She moaned, low and long, wrapping her legs around his waist, wishing their clothes would melt away and he'd slip inside her.

**LA**

Everyone stopped and stared at the couple stalking down the street, their movements in synch, power rippling off of them. Mick felt the night in all her glory, felt drunk on it. He sensed that he'd denied himself this basic joy, starved himself somehow.

Glancing at the beauty at his side, he felt a surge of affection and awe. She was night personified, nocturne's queen. He couldn't smell his scent on her, knew he'd denied himself even her, his once wife. It felt almost like sacrilege, but if it had ended bad, like she'd admitted, there were reasons for that, whether he could access the memories or not.

They'd spent hours together today, laughing and talking, listening to music, debating over various genres. She'd shown him albums of her photography, regaled him with stories of modern Egypt and Italy, of Hawaii and New Zealand. She'd never mentioned their history in any detail, and that was a can of worms Mick wasn't ready to crack open. He was having too much fun.

While Coraline was making some phone calls and settling her stuff in the bedroom, Mick took a tour around his apartment. It was eerily impersonal; there was nothing sentimental, no signature taste, no big reveals. Stylish, sure, if you liked the sleek modern look and Mick had to admit, everything was well orchestrated, but it had a sterile, lonely feel.

When Coraline came into it, something shifted. Her presence crackled with energy, bringing life and color into the place. She'd hung some of her work up at Mick's encouragement, decorated with some of her antiques, and scattered some candles around, making it feel like a home. She'd made Mick help, and they'd established a kind of rhythm, flowing around each other. He loved how she kept him on his toes, how she could turn ordinary stuff into an adventure.

During the day, she'd gotten a call from someone named Cynthia. "She's practically like a sister to me," Coraline admitted, sounding almost sheepish. "I'm usually not one for girl bonding and all that, but she's always had my back." He sensed his ex-wife didn't have many people in her life period, and wondered if she was as lonely as he sensed he'd been in his own life.

What she had in store for him tonight was anybody's guess, but so far, he had no complaints. The beat of the music vibrated all around them, hot and alive. There wasn't much of a line outside the club, but there was no mistaking the sea of blood that flowed inside, the pulsing of heartbeats. A rush of hunger sliced through Mick, bloodlust threatening to overwhelm him. What the hell was wrong with him? A grown man wasn't just a measly snack. It should have done the trick.

"Coraline." He just said her name, didn't need to say anything else, not with his eyes flashing.

"Don't worry," she assured him, giving him a minute to get it together. "A big crowd like this, of course it's going to work a number on you. Control, Mick, you have it, so use it." She laced her fingers his, squeezing gently. "I won't let you do anything you'll regret, okay?"

"This is normal?"

"Completely." She was totally in her element, and Mick knew as long as he followed her lead, it'd all go down smooth. They joined the small line outside the club, the rope quickly being pulled back for them. Their hands were stamped, and Coraline guided him into the club.

The air was heavy and hot around him, each molecule stroking his skin. Saxophones, guitar, piano and drums all bled together, speaking to a part of Mick's soul. Couples swayed on the dance floor, hormones making their own sweet music. He wanted to dance with Coraline, wanted to feel that graceful body against his, wanted to stare into her hypnotizing eyes.

"May I have this dance?" He stroked his thumb down her jaw, over those pouting lips. She planted a gentle kiss over it.

"Why, Mick, I thought you'd never ask," she teased. They edged their way to the dance floor, claiming a small portion. There wasn't much room to move, which was fine by Mick. He gathered her close, inhaling her intoxicating scent.

The contact felt so good, natural. He rested his chin on her hair, heard her sigh dreamily. They drifted together in a series of uncomplicated steps, the connection between them obvious. Again, people stared, but neither noticed. Mick felt a surge of pride. This sexy, vibrant woman was here with him, had eyes only for him. He didn't notice that she wasn't the only one being ogled, that several females, and a few males, would have been more than happy to go home with him. He was too caught up in Coraline's spell to notice anyone else.

On impulse, he dipped her, earning a startled laugh out of her. He pulled her back up, pressing a casual kiss to her forehead. He wanted her. Hell, who wouldn't? It didn't take a genius to figure Coraline's bed was never cold unless she wanted it that way, but tonight, and for as long as it lasted, she was here with him.

Even though he could tell she wanted him just as much as he wanted her, she hadn't given him the green light. As the elder vampire, every instinct Mick had told him it was her call to take their relationship to the next level, that forcing the issue would go against some elusive code. But for Mick, it went deeper than that. He was a stranger to himself, but he somehow knew he wasn't the kind of guy that pressured a woman, any kind of woman.

Call it a hunch.

They danced for a half an hour, both reluctant to end the moment. Finally, half-heartedly, Coraline inclined her head away in the opposite direction. Resigned, Mick nodded, escorting her off the dance floor. Pressing herself into his side, she whispered into his ear: "Don't worry; I'll make it worth your while."

"That I don't doubt," he retorted playfully. "What's the plan?"

"We're going hunting," she said blithely.

Drawing up short, Mick gave her an incredulous look. "Number 1, we did that already. Number 2, I told you I didn't want to hurt anyone. I doubt anyone here is a profile of evil. What are you-"

"Mick, weren't you listening?" A flicker of irritation crossed her lovely face. "I told you that it wasn't necessary to _hurt_ anyone. It's essential you learn to hunt…both ways."

"I don't need to feed right now," he protested, not knowing why he was fighting this so hard. "I got plenty earlier."

"Whether you need the nourishment is beside the point," she explained patiently, her irritation short lived. "You need to learn how to feed in this way, unless you want to go back to the bagged stuff." His expression spoke volumes. "I didn't think so. Come on."

They wound their way through a throng of occupied tables, Coraline's eyes scanning the place for a potential meal. Mick had a feeling the night was about to get much more interesting.


	9. Desires

I figured most of you would get a kick out of the last chapter, but the response exceeded my most hopeful expectations. It keeps me updating as fast as possible. So glad you enjoyed it. I can assure you, there'll be many more sizzling moments between both of the couples, just hang on and enjoy the ride. Intimate Stranger, I hope you enjoy this one!

**Modern New York**

"Josef, we need to stop," Beth gasped into his ear. Stop? Stop?! All he wanted to do was screw her into the couch until she passed out, which was the exact reason why she was right. He tore himself away, disgusted with himself. She was hot, sure, but gee, that wasn't exactly going out of style. Did he or did he not have some of the most delectable freshies on the planet for his amusement at his beck and call? Some of them made Beth look sick in the looks department. He didn't need to chew on Mick's potential toy. He pulled away, putting a good amount of distance between them.

_Then again, if Coraline has her way, Mick's gonna be playing elsewhere, _Josef reminded himself, but it didn't change the big picture. Beth was a headache and a half, no need to go there when he had so many other options.

"Well, mission accomplished," he announced casually. Beth blinked in disbelief. "Tonight, everybody's going to be convinced that we're dancing around the maypole." He fought to not start panting. His erection was damned painful, and his mouth watered. All that delicious blood, that gorgeous body just waiting to be pounced on, and he had to be good!

Beth's eyes swept down his body, resting on the noticeable bulge pressing against his fly. "Fine, play coy, but your anatomy sings a different tune."

"I don't know what your mother discussed with you, but that generally happens when-"

"Yeah, yeah." Beth scooted into a sitting position, ragged breaths making her breasts heave against her blouse. He unconsciously licked his lips, and saw her eyes zero in on the gesture. "Are we done here?"

Josef didn't know why the fact she was brushing him off bothered him, but it did. The woman who'd been all over him seconds before acted like he had the plague or something. _Get a grip, _he told himself. The last thing he wanted to do was bask in her oh-so-glowing presence longer than he had to.

"Just about," he assented brusquely, getting up. Damn. He needed to get to a freshie, and fast. "I'm picking you up at 8:00 tonight. Do you need me to send someone over to give you the professional touch?"

"Huh?" Beth blurted, looking startled.

Biting back a snicker, Josef gave her an expression of innocence itself. "To help with your make-up and hair, dear."

"Oh, right. Duh." Sheepishly, she ran her hand through her hair, sending it into further disarray. "Sure, why not? Might as well go for the gusto, right?"

"Mmm," he agreed absently, thinking about how much gusto he'd like to go for with her. From the smell of it, she wouldn't mind. Seriously, would it really hurt anything to engage in some afternoon delights? They could stay in New York a few weeks; Mick would never have to be the wiser. It wasn't like Josef had a sensitive conscience to trip him up.

_Plenty of fish in the sea, no need to take the risk, _he decided with more regret than he would have liked "I'm actually looking forward to tonight," she told him, her voice still delightfully husky.

"Just look pretty and don't make waves," Josef warned her.

"If I can get information on-"

"Then do it, as long as you don't make any messes that yours truly will have to clean up." Josef wasn't about to get in Beth's way, no more than he'd let her get in his. "You'll be swimming with the sharks, sweetheart. You're in the big leagues now, and Mick isn't here to rescue you."

"Speaking of which, have you heard from him? I tried to get a hold of him, but I couldn't get an answer." Genuine concern swept over her face, and Josef suppressed a sigh. The mental image of her calling and getting Coraline's voice on the other line wasn't the stuff sweet little dreams were made of.

"I made contact." He wasn't about to mention he'd spoken with Coraline, not Mick. "Everything's fine. He's kind of busy right now, he was about to out and do some…uh…patrolling." He'd almost said hunting, but Beth would spot that red flag a mile away.

Raising an eyebrow, Beth's hands flew to her hips. "For what?"

"For the boogieman," he retorted flippantly. "How the hell should I know? Look, 8:00. I'll see that Gabriella arrives an hour ahead of time. Good day." He started to leave, and then stopped. "Oh, Beth?"

"What?" She gave him a guarded look.

"Next time, try to control yourself." He winked, not sure if he was going to get rage or simple indignation. To his surprise, she laughed out loud. Well, she was interesting, he'd give her that.

"Next time, try fighting me off harder," she countered playfully, waving him off.

"Point and match." Maybe she wasn't such a pain in the neck after all. Yeah, right. It must have been the hormones talking.

**1950's LA**

"Cynthia darling, how are you? It's been too long." Coraline's voice was unusually enthusiastic as she spoke into the phone, genuine love glittering in her eyes. The vampiress she spoke to was the only female Coraline had ever felt true kinship with, even her own mother, a worthless twit masquerading as a human being.

"Well, you insist on rotting in LA. Ugh! I don't know what you find so appealing about America, I really don't. It has no character, no depth." Coraline good-naturedly rolled her eyes as she listened to a tirade she could have recited by heart at this point.

After a few moments of listening, Coraline finally cut in. "I know, but I practically run the city, being one of the few vamps a day over a hundred. What can I say, they can't stand the heat. Humph. Also, as long as brother dearest and his merry gang of bastards aren't around, I'm happy." Coraline feared few, but her brothers were on the list, especially Lance, the ringleader. Her half brothers were pure evil, and she tended to keep a pretty open mind.

"I know," Cynthia admitted quietly, a shiver in her voice. "Lance has no reason to come after you. He doesn't, right?"

"No, but he likes to throw his weight around. He's got a royalty complex just because we happen to be of the line…illegitimately, of course."

Coraline's father, an ancestor of ol' Louie, had impregnated his mistress, Coraline's mother, Annette, when he'd taken the compound, therefore reversing his sterile seed. He periodically was forced to mask his true nature when hunters were hot on his trail. He'd fathered six other children during other periods of temporary humanity. His consort, Marie, had acted as sire to his seven children, including Coraline.

Vampirism had been an attractive escape for Coraline. She'd grown tired of servicing the French aristocrats with her body, tired of the dangerous game she played as a courtesan. If she'd known of her powerful heritage, she would have sought their protection from the beginning, when she fled her childhood home at fifteen, tired of being raped by her brutal step-brother.

Of course, her mother, idiot of all women that she was, had hidden from Coraline her true identity, pretending that her father had been a mere mortal, not a powerful vampire that had finally met his end while in a temporary but all too vulnerable human state. Passing herself off as a respectable widow, she'd tricked a fool into marriage, a lonely widower with an unruly son.

It hadn't been until Coraline had been 'a friend of the court' for several years that Lance had sought her out, coaxing her to join her rightful family in the bonds of blood. She'd accepted, letting her natural father's former mate transform her into a goddess of the night.

Shaking off wearisome thoughts of the past, she refocused her attention on her true family. "Oh, don't worry about me, darling. I can handle ol' Lance, preferably from a distance."

"I'm in London right now, and last I heard, he was somewhere in Russia, so why don't you come visit me, hmmm? We'll paint the town red…literally."

"Sounds tempting," Coraline said over a laugh. "Soon, hopefully, but I have…interests here that need looking after."

"How delightfully ominous," Cynthia purred. "Animal, vegetable, or mineral?"

"Animal…male." Coraline sighed, feeling a catch in her throat. Mick, a mere mortal had taken her heart by storm, as much as she fought it. It was absolutely ludicrous, of course. How could such an ordinary man captivate a woman that could have had her pick of thousands of lovers? Sure, he was a handsome specimen, but that wasn't exactly an endangered species. No, it was far deeper than that, a quality she couldn't afford to examine.

"Oh, is that all? Seduce him, have a bit of fun, and discard him. That should take about a week."

"It's not like that, Cynthia," Coraline said, trying to keep the blues out of her voice. Everything was so damned complicated. Besides, she doubted Mick St. John would be interested in any seductions from her. She'd successfully driven him off, and she kept telling herself it was for the best. Besides, if he couldn't take a little competition, if he was as narrow minded as the rest of the hypocrites…

"It sounds serious." A note of concern crept into her old friend's voice. "Honey, please tell me you aren't getting…_attached_." Distain coated the last word, like she was saying cholera or something. Coraline's silence was damning. "Have you lost your mind? You were the one who said to me men are expendable toys. If you'd said it once, you've said it a million times."

"Usually, they are," Coraline agreed grimly. "Please, don't bother with the reality check. I'm aware of how nutty this whole situation is. I'm two steps ahead of you, believe me."

"Come to London," Cynthia urged, sounding nervous. "Just forget the whole thing."

"Oh, you sound as though the apocalypse is coming," Coraline scoffed, trying to laugh the entire matter off. "It's not all that-" She broke off when she unexpectedly inhaled his scent, heard the rapid beat of his heart, sped up by adrenaline and the booze Coraline's nose detected on his breath. A thrill sped up her spine. Ah, he was taking a walk on the wild side, hmm? "Listen, something's just come up. We're going to have to cut this short."

"We'll have to catch up later," Cynthia asserted.

"Naturally, and soon. Goodbye, Cynthia." She rested the receiver back into the cradle. Mick was close to the house now, and her instincts were clamoring to rush out and meet him. She forced herself to stay in her bedroom for now. Men grew bored with women that came like trained dogs. It was better to wait, make a slightly delayed entrance, keep them guessing.

There was a rattle, he was testing the lock. There were numerous footsteps, and then he came to an abrupt stop. "Hey!" he yelled, rapping his knuckles against the glass. "Hey! I know you're in there." More rapping, harder this time, and she heard the doorknob being twisted. She glanced at the clock, calculating her timing. _Let him stew for a few more minutes_, she decided. He pounded on the glass, working his way down. On second thought, she figured she'd better make an appearance.

"Where's your boyfriend?" he demanded as soon as he saw her. He wasn't drunk, she assessed. On his way, certainly, enough to lose his inhibitions and temper, but he wasn't slurring his words, wasn't stumbling like a bum. She kept her gait slow and flowing, not about to show the absurd joy spreading through her system like some drug. He was so adorable when he was mad, when he wasn't so well-behaved. "Send him out. I got something for him."

Not bothering to check her amusement at the idea of Charles being her boyfriend or Mick confronting the 354 year old, Coraline made her way to the glass, letting it serve as a tantalizing barrier. "Send who out? There's no one here."

"Then let me in."

_I already have, _Coraline thought wistfully, but wasn't ready to show her hand yet. This was just too much fun. "I'm not in the habit of letting inebriated men into my house at 2:00 in the morning." She could feel his heat through the glass, wanting him against her, wanted him inside her, wanted to ride him.

"You stood me up. You stood me up three times."

"I'm sorry." She was, really was for the first time in so long. "Okay? We'll make it up." She turned away, weighing her options. The next move, she concluded, had to be Mick's. She strode away, reentering her bedroom. He was stalking her on the other side of the glass, and she imagined him as a vampire, imagined what a glorious predator he'd be. By her side, another link in a powerful bloodline. There were thousands of mortals that would do anything, and she did mean _anything_ for the honor.

Lance would have a fit.

She approached him again, feeling the magnetic pull. He smiled briefly, his gaze hot and hungry. Her lips curved into a grin, imagining him as a vampire. She retreated before she betrayed her emotions, her nipples hardening against their lace prison, imagining his mouth sucking and nipping her there. Her skin felt too tight, her dressing gown capturing her body like a net.

The sound of glass shattering had her whirling around, seeing the chair he'd used to break the barrier. _Direct,_ she mused, delighted. Oh, yes, he was a worthy mate. There'd be no more games, no more tests. He stalked forward, and she met him halfway, their arms wrapping around each other, mouths meeting.

This wasn't like the gentle kisses they'd shared before. This was raw, this was primal. She'd brought forth the beast in him and she loved every second of her handiwork. She let him be the aggressor, let his tongue force his way into her mouth and dominate hers. She could have broken him like he broke the glass, but the idea never crossed her mind. One of his hands fisted in her hair, the other yanked the robe away from her body.

_Yes, yes, yes._ She rubbed her aching breasts against his chest, mewling into his mouth. She pushed his unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders, lifting the thin cotton of his undershirt. They both moaned in frustration when their mouths were forced to separate so she could get the damned garment over his head.

"Touch me, touch me everywhere," she crooned into his ear, nipping the lobe, running her tongue down his neck. The blood was racing through his veins, tempting her fangs into showing themselves. She shoved aside the bloodlust, letting carnal desires take her over. His hands_ were_ everywhere, whipping her into a frenzy.

Coraline was a great fan of earthly pleasures, considered herself an expert at the art. There wasn't a sexual act she hadn't performed or received. But for the first time in her life, she let herself get completely swept away, didn't worry about control, didn't calculate the encounter. She just let herself ride on glorious instinct, yielding to passion that didn't buy or sell.

Mick lowered her to the ground, tearing aside her flimsy lingerie. She felt a surge of relief, as though she'd been set free. His mouth engulfed her breast, teeth lightly grazing the nipple. "Harder," she moaned, rubbing against him, their pelvis' aligning, and she felt his erection give her pressure where she needed it most. She grabbed his hand, settling it between her legs. "Here, right there," she rasped, tossing her head back in abandon.

Hesitantly, Mick stroked her, eyes riveted to her face for cues. Through her sexual haze, she figured his experience was limited to green school girls and lackluster prostitutes. And being a good little Catholic boy, he probably wasn't encouraged to get in touch with his darker impulses. Pleasuring a woman this way was probably not his forte. Yet he was a quick study, and he was generous. He had her screaming and bucking. Of course, she'd never believed in stifling her enthusiasm.

"So beautiful," he groaned against her breast. He plunged two fingers deep inside, and withdrew, again and again, using his other digits to rub her clit. The familiar pressure was building, taking her towards a release that would send her flying. She bit down on his shoulder with blunt teeth, discretely taking enough for what she needed. She came apart in his arms, riding that glorious high for all it was worth.

Still feeling the tremors of sexual release, she flipped them easily, stripping him of his pants and boxers quickly. She'd return the favor and then some…later. She couldn't wait another second to have him buried inside of her. Gripping him steady with one hand, she impaled herself on him, letting out a hoarse scream of ecstasy. Mick grunted, his hands cupping her small breasts, massaging them, adding another layer of stimulus.

Oh, he felt so amazing. She closed her eyes, winding their legs together, just luxuriating in feeling him, alive and pulsing, so very deep inside. Her inner walls squeezed him, making him groan. He tried to move, but she shifted her hips, forcing him to stay still. "Not yet, darling," she sighed. She wanted him wild, desperate for her.

When she felt she'd tortured him enough, she rode him hard, and he met her stroke for stroke, their flesh slapping together. He was close already, a result of the alcohol and a long period of abstinence before tonight, she suspected. Of course, mortals had pitiful staying power compared to a vampire's, but none of that mattered. Love filled her, heightening the bliss flooding her ten times over. She leaned down to kiss him, nipping his lip hard enough to draw blood. Again, it was enough to come.

Her inner muscles squeezing his cock were enough to make him spill his seed into her. His hands dropped away from her breasts, limply on the carpet. She settled herself down onto her chest, lazily sighing her contentment. She kissed his chin and his jaw, her hands idly stroking his arm. After a minute or so, she felt him tangle his fingers in her hair, the touch affectionate.

By and by, she felt him tense, saw his eyes cloud. She felt a sharp pain stab through her. What, was he going to pull a disappearing act now that he'd gotten a trip around the world? That didn't seem Mick's style, but you never knew with a man.

"Your boyfriend must be an understanding fella," he announced bitterly, rolling her off him. The fact his touch wasn't punishing really didn't take the sting out.

"I don't have a boyfriend," Coraline informed him evenly, not about to display how deep he was cutting her. "If you're referring to the other night, that's Charles, an old friend."

"Pretty friendly by the looks of it."

Coraline gave him a wintry smile. "Not that this is any of your business, but for the record, I didn't give him any sexual favors. It was just-"

"What kind of idiot do you take me for?" Mick snapped, dressing in harsh, abrupt movements. "Do you just prance around in your robe-"

"You can believe whatever you want," Coraline told him dismissively, gaining her feet, not concerned with her nudity. Certainly, she knew how it looked; she'd staged the scene, for crying out loud. "You want the truth? The truth is I let you see what you did. I wanted you to think-" she broke off, holding up a single hand. "Forget it. You got your little thrill, you can go now."

"Why would you want to hurt me?" Mick demanded, looking younger than his years and terribly unsure, the anger gone. The affects of the liquor were wearing off, but then again, he hadn't been totally taken by it in the first place.

"So you wouldn't hurt me," she admitted. "I was afraid of getting in too deep, I guess, and it seemed as good of a solution as any."

A bark of surprised laughter escaped Mick lips. Tentatively, he reached out and stroked her cheek. "Lady, you're a piece of work, you know that? I always knew women were hard to figure, but you get the prize. Coraline, I think I'm falling in love with you."

"Then kiss me."


	10. Kisses

Hey, everyone. I appreciate the reviews I've gotten. Intimate Stranger, as always, thanks for your support and insight. It's been invaluable. Nightcap, I believe Mick would somewhat sexually inexperienced for as you said, because yes, of the era he was brought up in, his religion, and he was presented as naïve in the flashbacks where he first meets Coraline. Netele, the show's made Coraline's history somewhat confusing, this is just my personal take on it, and I altered it a tiny bit. I'm glad you liked it.

**LA**

Coraline wiped a towel across her sweaty brow, a smile twisting her lips upward. The last two hours she'd been sparring with Mick had been invigorating, flirting with the line of sexual tantalization. She would have loved to play, but contrary to what was popular belief, she could maintain her priorities when the pay off was high enough. She knew Mick was confused and a little hurt that she hadn't taken him to her bed, but he was ever the gentleman, not about to push.

The last few days, she'd been leading him on a journey into his own nature. Their nights were spent on the hunt, feeding in the clubs, surrendering to the pleasure of the feed. At first, he'd been hesitant to indulge, his old inhibitions rising to the surface with a vengeance. But she'd been patient, coaxing him to action, and eventually, unburdened by hauntings from the past, he'd given in. And he'd _liked_ it.

Now, she was training him. He had some good moves, but he lacked true aggression. He fought like a human with fangs, and she needed to change that, and she was changing that. She could kick his ass, but he had spirit, and he was proving a good challenge. He still had a long way to go.

"So, how was I coach?" he asked lightly, trying to keep his eyes from her sweaty body, concealed only by a pair of skimpy shorts and sports bra. She noted his reaction through his baggy sweats, trying to suppress an answering shudder.

"Perfect," she all but purred, attempting to keep the sensuality out of her tone, and not quite succeeding. "That's to say, you're making progress already, Mick. Just let the predator out to play, have fun with what you are."

"Before…before this happened, I don't think I had enough fun."

"You didn't," she told him blandly. "Maybe you were running for Sainthood 2008." Then she burst into laughter at his perplexed look. A few minutes later she patted his cheek affectionately. "Darling, there's no such thing as enough fun. Now, go and shower." The words were hard to enunciate clearly. Every time he took a shower, it got more difficult not to just join him, to claim that glorious body that was achingly familiar, that she was so empty inside without.

"No, ladies first," Mick gallantly offered, swallowing hard.

"I'm not afraid of you taking up all the hot water, Mick," Coraline teased. Vampires could tolerate hot water, but cold water was what soothed them, what they were drawn to. Unlike humans, the cold could also sexually excite vampires. "Take your time."

Mick started to go upstairs, then turned, a strange glint in his eyes. Slowly, deliberately, he headed her way, only stopping when they were a breath away from each other. He raised his hand, bringing it to tenderly caress the side of her face. Almost against her better judgment, she arched into his hand, savoring the contact. She started to let her eyes flutter shut to better relish the sensation, but was too bewitched by that fascinating face to deprive herself.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered. Coraline didn't know of many women that didn't like to hear they were beautiful. She didn't mind it exactly, but the compliment had a hallow ring these days. Yes, she was beautiful, she was sexy, she packed a punch, and she'd heard it a million times before. Blah, blah, blah.

"_So, you're beautiful. One of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. So what? There's nothing uglier than a black heart. _Mick had hurled those words at her once. She'd scoffed at him, mocked him as a sentimental fool, but he'd hit his target, even if she hadn't let him know. In the end, good looks and charisma were just tools, and only as useful as the results they got a person.

He thought she was beautiful now. And when his memory came back, they could be back to square one, so he could wax poetic until the werewolves came home about her looks, and did it really matter?

"Lame, huh? I bet guys tell you that all the time. Gee, I must stand out." He looked embarrassed, and started to pull away.

She gripped his arm, gently tugging him back into her personal space. "That wasn't lame, and you do stand out…big time. You always have." Leave it to Mick St. John to stand out because he was just a regular, nice guy. There was something extraordinary about his normalcy, a normalcy he'd somehow kept after 55 years of immortality.

"You stand out, too. And not just because you're beautiful, Coraline. Okay, yeah, you're a knock-out, but it's a lot more than that."

"So, you'd notice me even if I was a plain Jane?" she asked teasingly, but was genuinely curious.

He twined in his arms around her, pulling her closer in measured increments, giving her time to pull rank and put him in his place. She stayed still, seeing how much initiative Mick would take on his own. "You know, I was reading about Cleopatra on the web this morning," he informed her conversationally.

And that had to do with what exactly? "Not as much fun as porn, but definitely more original," she remarked lightly.

"Seriously. They say she wasn't much to look at in the looks department, but she was one of the most seductive women on the planet. You're like that. If you weren't beautiful, Coraline, men would still notice you, _I'd_ still notice you. You're vibrant, you're fun, you're…captivating." His words wound themselves around her, bringing startling tears to her eyes, ones that spilled down her cheeks.

Leaning forward, Mick kissed them away, trailed his way down to her mouth, easing them into a kiss that had her lips tingling, and her body singing. When they pulled away, his hand was stroking her hair. Before she could recover, he was headed for the shower, a definite spring in his step.

Maybe she shouldn't underestimate him.

Her phone rang and she recognized Josef's number. She wasn't really in the mood to deal with him, he had a way of bringing a person down to earth. Still…she figured if she ignored him, he'd just get pissy. "Hey, Josef."

"How is he?"

"He's actually having the time of his life," she informed him coolly.

"Oh, I bet." She could all but hear the smirk in his voice. "I'm sure you're showing him a real good time. Ah, your everlasting quest to bring Mick to heel."

"Of all people, you should understand," Coraline pointed out, thinking of Sara. Talk about long shots. "He doesn't remember anything yet."

"Enjoy it while you can, Coraline. Don't worry about Beth coming around and bringing up pesky feelings. She'll be in New York at least for another month." Something about the way he said her name got Coraline's attention, and gave her an opening to turn the tables.

"Sniffing around her skirts, are you, Josef?" She heard him suck in his breath in irritation. "Oh, I see how it is. Well, mixing business with pleasure can be fun."

"Use the brain you were born with. I'm just putting my scent on her to keep up appearances," he grumbled.

"That's your story and you keep sticking to it. Josef, I almost wish you could be here." Her voice turned earnest. "He's getting in touch with his inner vampire."

"And it only took 22 years. Well, congratulations. Maybe you can finally undo some of your damage." It was her turn to suck in her breath, but she didn't verbally protest. Josef may have been an asshole at times, but he was usually an insightful asshole. "What gave it away?"

"What, pray tell?" Coraline heard the shower switch on, and sighed. She'd much rather be up there with Mick, exploring that magnificent body, as entertaining as Josef _could_ be.

"How'd you know that something was going on with Beth?"

"Oh, please. Like I don't know you well enough to know when a chick's getting under your skin. Josef, for someone your age, you're not too mysterious. I'm just surprised you're on the phone talking to me and not enjoying Miss Turner's goodies…unless she turned you down flat. She's got a decisive way about her." She made a face, remembering just how decisively Beth made her point.

"She did not turn me down flat," Josef growled. "I was putting my scent on her, and she kind of pitifully whimpered something about stopping and I just decided she was right."

"Things come too easy to you, Josef, that's the story of your life. You snap your fingers and everybody hops. If you can't buy your way in or out of something, you don't bother. Why don't you break with form and actually get off your ass and try putting some effort into something?" Josef had a lazy streak the size of New York running through him, one of his less endearing habits.

"Oh, save it for the self-help book you're not qualified to write," Josef snarked. Then he paused, as if considering. "It'd suit your agenda if Beth hopped into bed with me, you'd use it as ammo when Mick get's his memory back."

"Do what you want, Josef," Coraline told him. This conversation was starting to wear thin. Sometimes Josef acted like they hadn't been through over 140 years of friendship, as though she were some kind of enemy. Yes, she was devious, and was ready to enjoy that quality about herself, but Josef himself could have taught lessons in manipulation. "Your sex life is not on the top of my list of concerns." She disconnected the call, shaking her head.

Well, she'd been right. He'd sent her crashing down to earth, but maybe it was for the best. One false step, and everything could blow up in her face.


	11. Communications

Thanks so much for the reviews everyone. Intimate Stranger, as always, well, you know the rest. For all you JoBe fans out there, in the next few chapters, things are about to get very interesting for them, in more ways than one. Answers about Sara lurk in the next chapter, but for now…enjoy this.

**New York**

Josef felt a ridiculous sense of pride when he walked into the party with Beth on his arm. It wasn't like she was the most woman in the room; this place was loaded with eye candy. Beth was beautiful, but lacked an exotic feel or the za-za-zing affect. Still, the combination of beauty, guts, and brains were a heady mix and he would have bet a million bucks she was the most interesting woman there. Why not? Worst case scenario, he could recover his losses in what, a day or two?

"What's the point?" Beth asked conversationally, swiping a glass of champagne with her free hand, taking a not so dainty swig.

"Of what?" Josef was a bit distracted by the way her dress clung to her generous curves. The cut was the height of good taste, but showed off her rather becoming figure to its best advantage. The way the fabric was hugging her delectable breasts…

"Are you listening?" she demanded, sighing in irritation.

"Not at the moment, no. Sorry."

"What did you say?" Since she looked genuinely floored and wasn't just trying to get him to repeat himself, he decided to be accommodating.

"I said 'sorry.' It's an ancient custom called an 'informal apology.' What do they teach America's brightest in college these days?" He clucked his tongue in mock horror. "Now, what were you saying?"

"I was just answering your question. What's the point of having liquor when vampire's taste buds aren't geared for it?"

"About 40 of the guests here are of the human variety," he informed her. "Also, although vampires don't register the taste like humans, certain beverages, such as champagne, taste expensive, and that's heady unto itself. Or, when dealing with hard liquor, you can still feel the burn, which is a nice contrast to a vampire's inner chill."

"I thought vampires hated heat," Beth protested.

"We don't hate it. We need the cold, it rejuvenates us, but we can tolerate heat to various degrees, Beth. If we couldn't, sex with humans would be impossible." He aimed her a lecherous grin.

"Huh. Good point. But Mick did say it was inadvisable."

"I've never been one to take Mick's advise. It's a one way ticket to absolute boredom." He nodded absently to an acquaintance, leading Beth into the crowd. It was important that they see and be seen. He noticed several males, both mortal and immortal undressing Beth with their beady little eyes, and felt the impulse to rip of their arms and beat them with it.

_No need to get all territorial, _he thought wryly. Not that ripping off arms wasn't a therapeutic hobby, but there was no reason to ruin a designer suit on Beth's account. She was Mick's human; he was just burrowing her for a while. Friends like Mick didn't grow on trees, even if he could be a little uptight. It wasn't worth getting a little action, even if the little morsel in question tasted divine.

Mick's human? Funny, that didn't seem so convincing when Josef's scent was all over her. Had she been all over Mick earlier? He doubted those two had even shared more than googley eyed stares, fleeting touches, and the a chaste kiss or two. Mick was too damned noble for his own good, which is why Josef had the fun.

"What are you thinking about? You look downright devious." She didn't sound entirely disapproving. Hmmm. He could get to like this one. He sensed Beth Turner wasn't the innocent Mick had convinced himself she was. There was definitely a wild side to her. Little angels didn't try black crystal willingly.

"Why, thank you. I was actually thinking you smell heavenly." He purposefully inhaled, raking his eyes down her. She didn't flinch, didn't look indignant. She merely raised an eyebrow.

"Really? I bet you say that to all the girls."

"Just half," he retorted smoothly. He imagined he could seduce her. She'd burst into an inferno of hormones with a modest amount of encouragement. Oh, there might be some token protests, but she'd probably-

"Earth to Josef." Beth waved her hand, champagne glass and all in front of his face. She could have used her other hand, but that arm was around his, old-fashioned style. Odd that she hadn't made a single move to take it away. She seemed the antsy type to him. Even more odd, he hadn't had the urge to break away either. "Geez, you're usually not so spacey."

"I was mulling over something very pleasant." He purposefully manipulated his voice into a velvet stroke, and he felt her shiver. Oh, yes, she could be seduced.

On impulse, he maneuvered her until she was standing in front of him, and he saw her brow knit together. She didn't have time to look puzzled for long, because she was too busy being kissed. Her lips were so soft against his, and he wanted to taste every square inch. She'd used cherry lip gloss, and it mingled with her natural taste. Then she opening her mouth, and he accepted her invitation with a low purr of pleasure. Their tongues rubbed together, causing them both to shiver.

The last thing he wanted to do was pull away, but if things kept up this way, he'd be taking her against a wall or something. Normally, Josef didn't mind an audience, normally perfectly willing to entertain his friends, but the idea of public sex with Beth, of sharing her with others, even visually, made him feel bizarrely temperamental. My, he was edgy tonight.

"What was that all about?" She sounded like a disappointed child who was trying to act adult, and failing miserably.

"I felt like it," he answered honestly.

"That's seems to be your M.O." Was that a reproach or a joke, he wondered. Or perhaps it was just a simple observation.

"Preferably."

"You're acting weird tonight," Beth announced, finishing her champagne. "First of all, when you picked me up, you actually complimented me, opened the car door, and didn't make a single insult on the car ride over. You acted…_nice_." If her bewilderment wasn't so cute, he might be insulted. Before he could get in a word edge-wise, she was rolling forward with the topic. "Then you space out on me, actually apologize, and then you kis-"

"That's because I can't get enough of you." He aimed her a pointed look, a silent reminder about their ruse. He leaned forward, whispering in her ear: "Maybe tonight I won't take no for an answer."

"We'll see," she countered, trying to sound indifferent. She didn't quite pull it off. "We should mingle."

"Certainly. And maybe you should think about what I said. Just say the word, Beth, just say the word." Hell, he'd be willing to scrap the whole party, valuable networking opportunities notwithstanding, and take her to the first available bed. Or sofa. Or-

"I'm not interested in being some flavor of the week," Beth muttered under her breath, and even with his vampiric hearing, if he hadn't been standing so close, he wouldn't have heard her.

What exactly did she want? For him to fall at her feet like Mick and so many others before him had? Did she want poetry and promises of undying devotion? Well, he was fresh out of that. She was just a means to an end. He really should set her straight, but some reason, the words wouldn't come. He didn't have time to analyze before an illustrious New York Banker; Harry Bardwell lumbered his way over and started talking his ear off.

But the affects of the kiss lingered in his system.

**LA**

The fear pulled him out of his light slumber, his eyes snapping open. Coraline. Her terror filled the air, and he felt his fangs extend, his vision sharpen from unnaturally keen to almost painful dimensions. _Protect mate _was the mantra going through his head, his body a blur of speed as he leapt from the ice filled bathtub, leaped across the hall, crashing through the grey door. He came to a dead stop when he saw she was alone in the freezer, caught in nothing more sinister than a nightmare.

Relief cut off the surge of adrenaline, the change so drastic he slumped against the wall, taking her in. They'd worked out an arrangement of sharing the freezer, three days of the week she crashed in it, the other four she took the ice bath. Beneath the lid of the freezer, Coraline's body was curled on itself, small whimpers escaping her trembling lips. In the brief time they'd spent together, Coraline had been many things to him, and he'd seen enough to know a lifetime wouldn't be enough to really understand every facet of her personality, but to see her so helpless was unexpected, and even if it was just a nightmare, seeing her like this tore at his heart.

In one movement, he was across the room and the lid was lifted. "Coraline, Coraline, shh," he murmured, lifting her body into his arms, cradling her there. She stiffened for one long second, and then relaxed into his body, her frozen skin meeting his, an erotic mix of ice and satin. Mick involuntarily grunted at the sensation, clenching his jaw to keep his control together. This was hardly the time to feel amorous. Careful not to jar her, he eased his way over the side of the freezer, settling her into his lap.

"Mick?" she whispered, voice small and bare, her eyes slowly opening. Unconsciously, her limbs clung to him, like he was the only thing that could keep her safe.

"Mmm-hmm," he assured her, rubbing his cheek against her hair, the strands teasing him. "Just a nightmare, it's over now."

"It'll never be over," she declared brokenly, burying her face in the crook of his neck. "Lance makes sure it won't be. It's just too much of a power trip for him to resist."

"Lance?" he questioned tentatively, wondering if he was one step closer to understanding the enigma that was his apparent ex-wife.

The clearing of those hypnotizing eyes signaled she was waking up fully, and was realizing how loose her tongue was. "I'm not sure I can get into this," she admitted, burrowing into him further.

"Okay," he acquiesced easily, wanting to help, not add on to the problem. Something told him that her nightmare was a symptom of a very real issue, but also had a feeling that Coraline wasn't going to confide in him…yet.

"If I asked you to go away with me, would you?" The question caught him off guard, the near desperation in her voice even more so. He wasn't sure if the nightmare had knocked her off her game, or if she was a lot more vulnerable than he'd pegged her as. Either way, he felt a rush of tenderness for her, and knew he'd follow her anywhere.

"Yeah, I would," he answered simply.

"Just like that?"

"Just like that," he affirmed affectionately, kissing her temple. Without asking her permission, knowing instinctively he didn't need to, Mick laid them both back, closing the lid. It was a snug fit, the planes of their body coming together, and every nerve in his body clamped down in anticipation, his body stirring. Ignoring his baser urges, he focused on Coraline, curling himself around her, the picture of a protective mate.

"I don't know if we'll even need a hasty get-away," she announced, brow drawn in concentration. "Still, it's good to have a plan B. Maybe the south, New Orleans or something. It'd throw him off; he'd be expecting somewhere cooler…"

Whoever this Lance was, she was terrified of him, and Coraline was a strong, powerful vampire, centuries old. Mick felt completely out of his depth. His grip tightened on her, mentally floundering. How could he protect them, how could he protect her? Simple, he couldn't. No, their only shot was working as a team, which meant she was going to have to open up to him. He couldn't just go in flying blind.

He told her as much, rubbing her shoulders to soften the sentiment. "Keeping me out of the loop isn't going to protect me; it might just get us both backed into a corner. What, you don't trust me? Is our past that bad that you think-"

Placing a finger to his lips, she adored him with her eyes, but the underlying anxiety marred what might have been a beautiful moment. "I trust you, Mick. I know you, and at heart, I've never known a better man, vampire or mortal. It's just…God, this is the last thing you need. You get a silver bullet to the head, lose your memory-"

It was his turn to interrupt her, this time with a kiss. He explored her lips tenderly, letting sensation do the talking for him. She responded urgently, forcing her tongue between his lips, anxious for deeper contact. Their mouths meshed, and he felt her pull him fully on top of her, a perfect fit, his hardening member at the juncture of her thighs.

Reluctantly pulling away, Mick nuzzled her neck. "Now, you listen up, and listen good. Memory or no memory, I'm not going to be some weight around your neck. And as for what I need, that's to keep one step ahead. I can't do that without having the facts straight." The last thing he wanted to do was talk strategy, with her body so pliant underneath his. All he wanted to do was sink into her and…he shut the door on that thought quick, now fully erect.

"Are you sure you want to talk?" she breathed in his ear, rubbing her thigh against the length of him, drawing a harsh groan out of him. "Or do you want to play?"

"Not tonight, baby," he gritted out. "When we make love, I just want it to be about us, not about needing to escape for a while." It wasn't that he doubted how much she wanted him, his nose didn't lie, and in his short memory, Coraline's desire for him had always been in the background of their interaction. But for some reason, she'd been reluctant to make the transition, a decision he respected, even if he'd been disappointed and more than a little confused. The fact she was offering her body when she was at her most vulnerable wasn't lost on him, and he wasn't going to take advantage.

"But Mick-" Coraline started to protest.

"We have forever," he assured her, drawing a startled jerk from her, her fascinating eyes going wide. "Today, we're going to get some sleep, and later you'll fill me in on this Lance guy."

"Okay." She sounded like she was gargling with stale old blood, but didn't argue with him. "Stay with me. It's where you belong." Suddenly, Coraline was a vampiress in charge, not asking, just telling how it was. The change relieved him. They both needed to be at the top of their game, just in case.

"I'm getting that." He arranged it so she was on top. Not that it really mattered, heavier weight or not, he couldn't crush her if he tried. She lay her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. He rubbed her back, feeling their reluctant hormones gradually recede, thought it was a slow, uncomfortable wait.

Needless to say, neither got any sleep for a good, long while.


	12. Developments

The response to my story has been very flattering. I'm glad everyone is enjoying themselves and thank you so much! I'm afraid this will be the last 1950's segment of Mick/Coraline's story. They've been fun, but I think I've explored their past, and we're getting to the heart of the story. The JoBe section of the story shouldn't disappoint...I hope.

**LA-1950's**

Mick was so nervous his palms were sweating. He eyed the ring he'd just bought for what felt like the thousandth time. He was sure the diamond in the gold band was pitiful, a speck compared to some of the rocks she'd sported in her time. Maybe he should have gone for rubies. Yeah, rubies would have been better. No, wait, diamonds were good. She had so many rubies, she could practically open her own jewelry shop, and she'd once commented that diamonds were her favorite stone, her birthstone.

Man, oh, man, he really didn't want to make a monkey out of himself. He had her favorite wine poured, purposely had the lights dimmed, (bright lights gave her a headache) he had vanilla candles lit, (a scent she adored) and he had Wynonie Harris' voice in the background. He didn't bother setting the mood further, he'd just look like he was trying too hard.

"This has impending doom written all over it," he muttered glumly, shoving the ring out of sight. Why would a classy dish like Coraline ever settle for a broke veterinarian who scored the occasional music gig? If she was going to get married, it should be to some big shot CEO or lawyer, some fella who would be more her speed, could help keep her in the style she was accustomed to.

"Talking to yourself, Mick?" a teasing voice asked. "Careful, or you might find yourself locked away. I'd be more than willing to be your jailer. You'd look good in chains." He turned around to see Coraline giving him an openly wanton look. His mouth had suddenly gone very dry.

A vision in deep purple silk, those raven curls in an up-sweep, she sauntered over, her hips swaying. He swallowed hard, bewitched. Oh, boy, how was he ever going to get the proposal out? He still couldn't believe she was keeping company with him, much less consent to wear his ring, be his wife.

"See something you like, my love?" Through the mischief, he heard the tenderness in the last word, and felt his chest tighten. _Maybe I do got a shot, _he thought hopefully. _Don't bet the farm on it, buddy, _his more cynical side shot back.

"Who wouldn't like what I'm seeing? I could stare at you for hours," he countered, trying to keep his cool.

"Mmm, flattery will get you everywhere," she purred, running her hands up his chest. "I missed you yesterday." The last month, when Mick wasn't working, they'd been inseparable, spending hours making love, going for drives in the city, laughing and bantering, teaching each other new things.

Mick had taught Coraline the piano, and she showed him some of the tricks of the photography trade. She had a good ear for music, and could already play the harp and the violin, offering up angelic notes that didn't match her more devilish nature. He'd adapted well to the camera, and filled several albums with his work, with her praise. He still didn't understand why she wouldn't allow him to snap any pictures of her.

"Beauty should be captured. It allows it to live forever," he argued. She got an odd look on her face, and distracted him with wandering hands. He decided to broach the topic some other day.

Yesterday, they'd been forced to take a break. Coraline had a late night board meeting with some of the heads of the department stores carrying her designs. It had given him time to pick up the ring. He just wondered if he was better off forgetting the whole idea.

"I missed you, too. Some wine?" He offered the burgundy, feeling like it'd take a bottle of wine to take the edge off his nerves.

"Expensive." Coraline was watching him closely, quietly assessing as she accepted the wine, took a sip. "What's worrying you?"

"Not much get's past you."

"It's doesn't exactly take a detective, darling." She set her glass down, cupped his cheek. "If it's money, that's no problem. I know you're terribly stubborn about this-"

"It's not that. Things are tight, but I'm not in any danger of being tossed out on my ear. And St. John men don't sponge off women." His father would roll in his grave, then come back to haunt him, probably chase him around with a belt. The mental image made Mick smile.

"So you've told me." Good-naturedly exasperated, Coraline brought him in for a consuming kiss. When she was satisfied she had him in a proper daze, she went back to her wine. "And what's the point of a woman having money if she can't spend it on the man she loves? You're hardly a gigolo. Trust me, I've met them."

Mick had guessed there was a good chance Coraline did love him, or else he wouldn't be sticking his neck out with a proposal. Still, it was another thing to actually hear the words. Oh, sure, she'd snuck it in real casual like, but that didn't mask his joy. His climb to cloud nine almost distracted him enough not to see the gleam of worry in those luminous eyes. Almost.

It never occurred to him that Coraline was anything less than the embodiment of self-assured. It was impossible for him to grasp that she could have any doubts about his feelings. He was just a lower middle class stiff, for crying out loud.

Coraline took his silence for some kind of rejection. "I'm sorry to have upset you," she said stiffly. "I should have realized that a harlot's love is not a fashionable accessory."

"You're not a harlot. Coraline, I never thought-"

"Oh, don't delude yourself, Mick. I'm a whore, and I'm not ashamed of it. I sold my body for years. Certainly, it was only to the most exclusive of clientele, the filthy rich and unbelievably powerful." Her eyes glinted with defiant determination. She was trying to shock him, trying to see what his attachment to her was made of. "I wasn't coerced into my lot, I enjoyed the power I had over men, enjoyed the luxury my rather colorful talents afforded me. Now tell me I'm not what society would define as-"

"Don't do this, baby," he urged her lovingly, setting her wine aside, and drawing her into his arms.

"The truth isn't always pretty, Mick," she informed him bitterly.

"No, it's not. Okay, so you're a woman of the world, that didn't exactly go over my head." He would have had to fallen off the turnip truck yesterday if he'd thought she was anything close to an innocent virgin. He kissed her, keeping it mostly light and affectionate. "You'll never be a harlot to me, you're a goddess, and I want you to be my goddess." It wasn't exactly the way he'd rehearsed how he'd approach this, but the moment just overtook him, and if Coraline had thought him anything it was to go with the moment.

"Goddess, hmmm? How wonderfully pagan," she ribbed, but he could see that she was taking this seriously, was just afraid to read too much into what she was afraid was wishful thinking. And he realized, for all her sophistication and liberated sexuality, that Coraline had her hang-ups, just like anybody else. And life and love hadn't treated her very gently. That would explain all the games, the way she tried on masks like most dames tried on hats. "And what does exactly being 'yours' entail? Never say that Mick St. John is suggesting white slavery."

"Well, my mother has said that's what it was when her and the old man went a few rounds," Mick joked, trying to lighten the moment, and get up the nerve. "Coraline, will you marry me? Will you make me the happiest guy on the planet?"

**Modern New York**

"Care to dance?" Josef's voice was in her ear, and Beth forced herself not to jump. They'd been at the party for an hour, and she'd taken the opportunity to mix and mingle; familiarizing herself with Josef's acquaintances, knowing one of them might be the lead that could crack her latest investigation. At some point, she'd lost track of Josef, who was in the thrall of potential profit. He'd disappeared not long after they hit the scene, working the room as he'd put it. Now he had an arm draped around her waist, nuzzling her neck and whispering softly in her ear and she tried to ignore the fact that she liked it.

Geez, was she that emotionally starved? As underappreciated as he'd been in life, Beth had come to realize how good of a boyfriend Josh had been, surprising her with spontaneous bouquets of flowers at work, late night back-rubs, grabbing Chinese food when she forgot to eat, a million little things that she'd taken for granted over their year-long romance. No one had ever taken such good care of her, loved so sincerely without expecting anything in return.

But she hadn't loved him, not in the way he deserved to be loved. The last couple months, she'd been going through the motions, with Josh desperately trying to bridge the distance. Their last lovemaking session had been dismal, at least on her end. He'd seemed happy, but she just couldn't get into it. She'd convincingly faked the orgasm that wasn't, and pretended to fall asleep right after. The next morning, she'd wondered what the hell happened. When had the magic died?

Mick was a large part of it; he'd been the turning point. Oh, she wasn't in love with him, he was just a symptom of what was seriously missing with Josh. Now, as much as she cared for Mick, she knew that she'd never be able to pursue anything with him, he was too much of a reminder of her own inadequacy. Instead of having the guts to either scrap or really work on things with Josh, she'd made, as Josef put it, googley eyes at Mick, and had been nursing secret fantasies about him. She still wanted Mick's friendship, but anything deeper was impossible.

"Now, who's spacing out?" Josef challenged playfully, running a wicked hand down her side.

"You said something about dancing?" She offered her hand, allowing him to whisk her onto the dance floor. The space was almost empty, they practically had free reign. Josef was a surprisingly good dancer, and they quickly became in tune with the other, almost flowing around the few couples that were on the floor.

"What was going through that head of yours, or do I even want to know?" he asked; his good mood holding.

"You know, just love, death, regrets, stuff like that." She tried to keep her tone light, tried not to descend into melodrama.

"What, no thoughts about world peace? Good grief. What a pair you and Mick make." Then he scowled, and she wondered why.

"We make a good dynamic duo, I'd say," Beth mused. She knew Mick had serious feelings for her, and once, she could have sworn she returned them, but if that were the case, she would have broken up with Josh after the parking lot kiss…or kiss_es_. She didn't want to hurt Mick, but anything they'd ever had would be overshadowed by her guilt and by the fact she didn't have what it took to be with someone like him. He needed someone who gave 110, who would put everything aside everything for him. Beth just wasn't that kind of gal.

"Yes, your love will go down in the annals of history," he muttered, sounding cranky.

"We're friends, Josef, and we make a good team." Why she felt the need to clarify, she didn't know, but she did all the same.

"Then you're sending out all the wrong signals," Josef said bluntly.

"You know what I mean. You kiss him-"

"He told you!" she exclaimed, eyes narrowing, jaw setting.

"Again, my ears are ringing," Josef huffed. "Keep it down, if not for my personal comfort, for the sake of privacy. We're supposed to be in the throes of divine love, not screeching like banshees. And yes, he told me. Hey, your gender doesn't have the corner market on confiding this kind of stuff. No, don't interrupt, my dear, I'm not finished. As I was saying, you kiss the man, flirt up a storm with him-"

"Okay, maybe I flirted a little, but it was harmless-"

"Not with Mick. Now me, I understand flirtation is often a social thing, or a woman's way of boosting her self-confidence. Hey, I get it. I like to play games with a beautiful woman, or man if I'm in the mood for some variety, it spices up a day." _Bisexual, huh? Actually would have been more surprised if he wasn't, _Beth internally reflected with a nonplused look. "Mick isn't like that. Feelings are serious business for him. He feels keenly, doesn't do anything in half measure. Plus, he's wrapped up in his guardian angel role-"

"Did he tell you that too?" This time she was careful to keep her voice down, but she was still pissed.

"Uh, that he's been watching over you since you were four, of course. I've always called it him playing guardian angel. Kind of weird that he should get the hots for you at this point, after seeing you at the bed wetting stage, but hey." Oh, so Mick hadn't related that conversation, Beth realized. "My point is that he's the kind of guy you've got to be very straight with. Once he knows the score, he'll stay in the colored lines, but you haven't actually been up front. I don't mind telling you, if it's all platonic on your side, you've been leading him around by the nose."

"Well, since my time machine's broken, what do you suggest, oh, wondrous sage?" she demanded sarcastically.

"When you go back to LA, set him straight. Don't knock him over the head with it; but lay it on the line. It might be a bitter pill to swallow, but Mick would appreciate it a lot more now than later. And if it makes you feel any better, I don't really think he's in love with you."

"And what makes you say that?" Beth questioned defensively.

"See, that's just it about you. It's not that you want Mick, but you sure like the idea of him wanting you. Hey, I like getting my ego rubbed, too. I'm just more upfront about it. As for my personal opinion about his love or lack thereof, I think he's more in love with the idea of being in love with you. You symbolize his eternal quest to redemption, or some philosophic drivel along those lines. Before you came into his life, Mick wasn't that much different than your run of the mill vamp. Blending in, covering his own ass, enjoying his meals almost as much as me." The dance over, he lead Beth off the dance floor. Seeing her look, he waved a hand. "Oh, let me set your mind at ease. As far as I know, Mick didn't kill innocents, he was just more relaxed. Then he started looking out for you, and what you see today is the end result."

"You blame me for him not being vampire enough?" He hadn't said that in so many words, but Beth had the feeling Josef was constantly on a mission to get Mick to let loose.

"You're the reason, but as you were four years old, I don't think 'blame' is an entirely accurate word. The point is you're redemption personified for him, whereas Coraline always represented what he perceived as his dark side. Personally, I saw it as his interesting side."

"Coraline." Beth's eyes shot fire. "She's gone. What does she have to do with anything?"

"If she wasn't, why would you care?" Josef countered. "If Mick does find someone else, you should be grateful. You're off the hook, no need to be the bad guy."

Feeling suddenly very uneasy about the conversation, Beth spotted a convenient reprieve. "Oh, there's someone I need to talk to," she explained, gesturing. "I'm sure you'll manage to not miss me too much, pumpkin."

"I'll count the minutes, muffin," he shot back sardonically. She just chuckled as she made her way over, approaching an aristocratic woman in a Vera Wang creation with silvered blonde hair. She had piercing green eyes that seemed to know all. No surprise, Beth decided, since she was over 600 years old.

"Vanessa Eastwood?" The woman turned, raising an eyebrow at Beth, every inch the bored vampiress. "I'm Beth Turner, Josef Kostan's-

"Josef Kostan?" Suddenly, the woman looked more approachable. "Ah, of course, you're his playmate."

"We keep company, yes," Beth affirmed. She didn't like the term, but guessed it was a step up from freshie. "I'd like to talk to you for a few minutes, if that would be-"

"I'm afraid my time is valuable, Miss Turner."

"Beth, please." Adopting her most persuasive, likeable tone, Beth knew just the right angle to play. "I'd be very grateful, and be sure to mention that to Josef." In the last hour, she'd heard that despite the illustrious Ms. Eastwood's age and power, she was perpetually broke because of lousy business sense and an addiction for the good life.

"And what, he'll cut me a check?" Beth could see the wheels turning behind those shrewd eyes.

"I doubt it, but Josef has a good memory, and can be very generous just when you need him to be." She didn't want to make any promises, but she felt fairly sure a good word to Josef would do the trick.

A meaningful pause ensued, and then Vanessa's voice was dangerously quiet. "I wouldn't advise playing with me. If you make enemies and Josef Kostan is ever done with you-"

"Don't threaten me," Beth warned her, not the least bit intimidated. Reporters couldn't afford to back down, they'd get stuck in the copy room. "It won't get you anywhere. I'll put in the good word to Josef. That's all I'm saying, but you should know that's how deals get made a lot of the time. Take it or leave it."

Vanessa's persona changed in the blink of an eye. Suddenly, she went from the vampiric embodiment of an iceberg to open and accommodating. "Shall we got out and see the gardens?"

"I'd just as soon stay close," Beth announced dryly. They walked out onto the terrace, the moonlight wrapping around both of them.

Abruptly, Vanessa stopped by a blood red rose bush. _Appropriate,_ Beth silently acknowledged."All right, as long as we keep our voices down, we won't be overheard. What is it you want?"

Beth decided to get right to the point. "I heard you're a leading expert on vampiric allergies, specifically silver."

"I trade in silver for self-defense purposes of my kind. I'm not a doctor, little mortal, I'm an arms dealer." Beth knew that she was little more than a figure head for a company called Allied Metals. She was their ambassador in essence, given the job more for her poise, elegance and good looks than anything else, and she had almost as many connections as Josef. Beth believed her official title was something like Creative Coordinator.

"More or less," Beth agreed vaguely. "I'm not interested in the details, no offense. Have you ever heard of vampiric comas triggered by silver?"

"Officially no. You could put a stack of Bibles underneath my hand and I'd give you the same answer, and I'm known for my unique strength of faith in the vampire community." That was true. Her nickname was The Unholy Christian. "It would be your word against mine, and my ears would detect a recording device, however sophisticated."

"Fair enough." Training kept Beth's impatience in check. Some people you needed to draw out and let them dish on their own terms. "Let's go with unofficially then."

"I've heard of two cases where silver was the proven culprit. If you're looking for a cure, you won't find one." Beth felt her heart drop down to her stomach, felt like the atmosphere lost all its oxygen. "Yes, I see you were hoping for one. Sorry, sweet cakes, life's full of tough breaks."

"There could be a cure," Beth argued. Sometimes you had to push; sometimes there was a hidden clause, some loophole. "I'm telling you, the vamp in question hasn't aged a day. She's still alive. She's-"

"She's an empty shell," Vanessa countered like they were discussing the weather. "In essence, the silver killed her. Somehow, her sire managed to preserve the physical symptoms of life, that's common. The silver can act in this way, but the soul is gone. It's the vampiric version of a human vegetable. Am I getting through to you?"

"You said you've only heard of two cases," Beth pointed out, not even close to giving up. "Maybe individual cases vary. Maybe-"

"Maybe nothing," Vanessa declared drolly. "I can offer you a list of second opinions if you wish, but I'm an expert on silver and its affects to the undead. One of the top five of my race. Give me your number and I'll text you the information. A more productive use of your time would be to search for a possible replacement."

"For what?"

"Many times, when there is a deep enough love, which I suspect their might be if the sire in question is delaying the inevitable, a soul cannot rest, even in the most glorious of paradises. So, they return to this world, reincarnated." She chuckled briefly. "Of course, their minds have no memories of their whole reason for rebirth, that's what makes it interesting. Of course, such memories can be tapped into. If I were you, I'd seek a psychic or something. Maybe the soul you seek has been reborn. If not, maybe they will be in the future. Now, if you'll excuse me, I was enjoying the party." She paused, smirked. "I'll text you the names for second opinions, but I wouldn't waste your time."

"Let me the judge of what to do with my time," Beth returned evenly. She gave her a number where she could reach her, determined to hold her ground until she was in private.

"Do remember your end of the bargain." Then Vanessa was gone, and Beth sank onto a stone bench, alone with her inner turmoil.

Despair threatened to overwhelm her. Sara was dead, nothing more than a really well preserved corpse. Josef had been hanging onto nothing more than a pipe dream for over five decades. Of course, Vanessa could be wrong, but she was an expert, unless she was lying…and Beth intended to check out those second opinions, and Vanessa's own references for that matter. Now that she had an in to the vampiric community, that shouldn't be too hard.

There could be a cure, but somehow, Beth knew there wasn't. Josef's love was lost, and the best Beth could offer him was that maybe, just maybe, Sara had come back for round two, with no memories, with only a soul to link two lives. It'd be cold comfort. It was better than nothing, but it wouldn't be the time to chime in with the 'glass half empty, half full' analogy.

If there wasn't anything left of Sara, even in another body, God help Josef, and God help all of them when he found out.


	13. Events

Everyone, I love the reviews you've been sending in, and it kicks my muse into gear. All ye fellow fanfic writers know that feedback often makes a big difference in motivation, and you guys have been doing your part, so I'm happy to turn over this chapter. Intimate stranger, don't worry about last chapter. You've showed such consistent support, I do appreciate it.

Before we kick Chapter 13 off, I want to address some confusion over my one-shot _Understanding. _I've gotten requests to update it, but it's marked as 'complete.' It was never meant to be a long-term journey, just a little POV on how Mick might reach a turning point about where his future is headed romantically, and what led him to that point. Sorry for any misunderstandings, folks.

**LA**

They were both drinking a fresh beverage, blood from a 22-year-old freshie, still technically virginal, although Coraline would be willing to bet that this technicality was stretched pretty thin if the donor in question was a freshie. Probably her physical innocence kept as more a commodity than anything else. For her own part, Coraline didn't have any freshies on hand, but the century old company that supplied home delivered meals had an army of them, on hand for those who didn't want the headache of housing their vending machines or suffer through bagged blood. Although Coraline preferred to hunt her own meals, sometimes because of scheduling or to avoid drawing too much attention, she got her meals the modern method often.

Showing none of the needless hang-ups he'd displayed in the past, Mick had drained one glass and was on his second. But those smoky eyes were trained on her, waiting. It was the last thing she wanted to talk about, (except for maybe every dirty detail of her endless list of sins during their marriage) was her brother. Still, Mick had been right. Lance wasn't a threat she could handle while protecting Mick. And if he'd brought the crew of merry bastards…

Yesterday, she'd been at the lab where she was doing the bulk of her research, checking up on the compound, trying to regenerate the extinct flora. She'd once contemplated finding a permanent cure, but discarded the idea a long time ago. It went against the basic principle of the cure, which was a quick fix, a means of survival, and exaggerating the cure might overwhelm the cell structure altogether, canceling the intended affect out. For another thing, this could be a weapon to wipe out vampirism, another trick in a hunter's bag. The vampiric community would never accept it, would execute her in a fashion that would make Nazi's cringe.

But having a temporary cure becoming extinct was just as dangerous. Vampires needed, for various reasons, from time to time, to disguise their true nature, to further shroud their true selves in the shadows of secrecy. And it gave the vamps like Mick a light at the end of the tunnel, kept them from suicide or various other forms of desperation. Not to mention, if she could find a way to market this baby, she could get her grandsire's approval. Veronica, Lance…they were all his puppets, and if Coraline could find a way to make him wealthy beyond even his wildest dreams, he'd switch alliances, as he was famous for doing. She'd finally have power over Lance. She could finally kill him, and subdue her five other brothers, who would be primed for the molding.

Originally, she'd been planning to shift the home base of her research once she settled in England, but Mick's silver dose had changed all that. She'd stayed in LA longer than she should have.

Lance wasn't going to make this easy. During her visit to the lab, she'd found her lead scientist, Jonathon, decapitated on the ground. Lance's scent was all over the body; his sadistic glee a stench Coraline would know anywhere. All her research was ruined, and she was practically at square one. If it weren't for Cynthia and her stamina for the cause, Coraline might have been at the end of her rope.

Ah, Cynthia. Coraline sighed, a familiar twinge of sadness going through her, only barely managing to repress it. Sympathy was not an emotion easily roused in Coraline, but in this case, she'd make an exception. It was never easy being in love with a person, to ache for a person in every sense, and know they'd never feel that way about you in a million years. Okay, saying it wasn't easy was like saying crucifixion wasn't fun, but the point was that Coraline hated her friend's pain, but she wasn't willing to fix it. Her feelings for her old confidant were strictly platonic, whereas she knew Cynthia was in love with her.

Pushing aside her pointless mental journey, she refocused on Mick; grateful vampires couldn't get physically ill from anxiety. "Lance is my half-brother."

"Okay, that's a twist I didn't see coming," Mick admitted. "So much for blood being thicker than water."

"There's a lot of water under the burned bridge, then," Coraline said dryly. "Lance and I didn't grow up together; he's almost two hundred years older than me."

Mick gave her the most incredulous look. "How does that work?"

"There's a temporary reprieve from vampirism, an organic compound. It 'masks' the vampire within, and for a time, you take on the characteristics of humanity. The vampire that fathered both Lance and myself, not to mention the other five, was able to procreate when he took some of the compound."

"What's it made out of, the compound?" Mick seemed interested, but not really invested, the way he would have been if his memory was in working order.

"It's developed from the blood and bone marrow of members of a powerful bloodline, my so-called family. I'm talking French royalty, the illegitimate branch, of course, but still. It was blended with local plants, which have unfortunately gone extinct due to human expansion. I've been trying to bring it back the scientific way, but so far, all I've done is use more of what's left."

"Well, that would explain the age gap between you two." Leaning forward, Mick took one of her hands, bringing it to his lips so he could kiss her knuckles. The sweetness of the gesture pierced through her, and she felt a sudden desperation to savor every second they had, but it was too late for that. "So, why are you so worried about Lance? You'd think he'd be on the same page as far as cloning this long-lost plant."

"He thinks I'm endangering the line, and besides, he thinks the vampire race has outgrown the original need for the cure. He's in favor of asserting our kind as the dominant race over the humans. It's fanatical, and I doubt it'll catch on," she added thoughtfully. "Most vampires like the world the way it is, don't want to disturb the balance. Still, Lance wants to shut me down…now."

"Will he leave you alone if you stop?" Mick's grip tightened on the hand he was still holding.

Coraline snorted. "Not likely. I've stepped out of bounds, and the bastard gets off on a power trip like nobody else. He's out for blood, and he's trying to impress our grandsire, Dominic." She felt a shiver as she thought of one of the oldest vampires on record, who walked the earth when Greece had been a major world power. How odd that someone with no French in his blood would infiltrate the flower of French royalty, would be one of its founders.

"You're afraid of him," Mick observed quietly.

"I'd be stupid not to be. Lance has direct access to our grandsire's blood, that's access to unbelievable power. If I can bring back the key ingredient to the compound, and find a way to make Dominic benefit, then I'll replace Lance as the favorite, and I'll have access to his blood. Until then, my big brother's holding all the cards."

"Not all of them," Mick assured her. "It's not over until he catches you, and obviously, that hasn't happened."

Covering the hand that was wrapped in hers, Coraline leaned forward, determined to make him understand. "You don't have to be involved in this, you know. If I leave town today, Lance won't bother with you. If you stick with me, you're going to get caught in the crossfire."

"You're not going anywhere without me," Mick declared heatedly, pulling her onto his lap. Her heart squeezed as she settled herself in. Doom seemed to be a tangible force in the air, an abrasion against her skin.

Forcing her expression to remain impassive, Coraline knew she couldn't be weak. "This isn't the time to get emotional, okay? Lance will kill you if you get in his way, and you will. If he catches me alone, he probably will want to take me back alive. When I get away, I'll come back to you." Of course, by then, Mick's memory probably would be back, and all this would be a moot point anyway.

"As reassuring as all that is, forget it. Two heads are better than one, and if we can't beat him in a fair fight, we play dirty."

My, she was starting to rub off on him. Pity she didn't have the time to admire her handiwork. "I like the way you think, but that's the only way Lance knows how to play."

"So we beat him at his own game," Mick maintained stubbornly. And he did have a point, Lance wasn't invincible. There was too much in-house fighting for Coraline not to be able to find an ally among her brothers. Still, she couldn't take the chance with Mick.

"You don't need me anymore," she informed him, trying to adopt her aloof, icy persona that had served her so well in the past. For once, she failed at her own trick. "I've showed you the ropes, you'll do fine. Who knows? Maybe you'll want to exert yourself and take on some clients again." When all this had happened, he referred whatever cases he'd had to other capable hands, leaving him free to recover in peace.

"I do need you, baby," he whispered, freeing his hand to tangle both of them in her hair, bringing her lips a whisper away from his. "I'm not doing this without you, Coraline. You walk out that door…" he planted a brain drugging kiss on her, pulled away too soon…"and I'll just follow you."

Abruptly disentangling herself, Coraline found her feet. She hadn't wanted to do this, but it was the only way to keep Mick safe, so she'd bite the bullet. "You wouldn't feel that way if you knew the truth. Before you lost your memory, you despised me."

"I don't believe you." Angry, Mick got to his feet. "I felt a bond between us right away; I was drawn to you like-"

"That's called lust, sweetheart," she retorted bluntly. Her heart was breaking, but this wasn't time to indulge in her sorrow. Mick was going to remember on his own eventually, but there wasn't time for that. If breaking his loyalty now was the only way to protect him, so be it. At least she had new memories to treasure.

"It had nothing to do with lust," Mick argued, reaching out to her, but she evaded him. If he touched her now, her willpower would crumble. It wasn't too well developed in the first place. "Okay, maybe there was some lust mixed in, but that wasn't what it was about. We're part of each other and even with my memory gone-"

"I'm you're sire, so of course we're a part of each other. I joined us almost 56 years ago, against your will." She waited to see how Mick would react, waited to see the familiar accusation and resentment wash over him and be aimed at her.

"Against my will," he echoed, shocked but still calm. _Yeah, well, give him time, _she told herself.

Then the beginning all came out, everything. She told him about their wind whirl romance, his sweet proposal, and the wedding night that ended in disaster. "I hadn't told you about my nature, not willing to lose you. I thought if I could just make you happy as your wife, that you'd understand it didn't matter." She felt detached from herself, and that was good. She needed some distance.

"How could I not figure it out?" Mick demanded incredulously. They'd long since sat down, facing each other.

"I'm a mistress at my craft, Mick. Fooling mortals is child's play after enough years. Vampires need blood to climax, but you passed off my biting you as foreplay. I was going to tell you after we made love on our wedding night. I thought you'd be less likely to run for the hills if we'd consummated the marriage. But I made a mess of everything."

"How so?" Through all of this, Mick's expression had been unreadable, and it unnerved her.

"I hadn't been feeding enough in the recent weeks prior to our wedding. Like a lot of people in the throes of new love; nourishment was the last thing on my mind. When we were lying in the honeymoon suite, I lost control. Carnal lust and bloodlust got mixed together, and I bit you…with my fangs. I told myself I'd just take a little…but you tasted so good. By the time that I got my control together, I'd taken too much. There was blood everywhre…"

"So you turned me," he finished, arms crossed over his chest.

"I suppose I could have gotten you to the hospital, but I had planned on turning you in any event. Admittedly, the original plan was to fill you in on some rather pertinent details first, but I assumed you'd adjust. I thought I was giving you the greatest gift I could, but instead, I cursed you. I was wrong, so very wrong. You never forgave me, and in time, hated me." She was finished, and she felt spent. She sagged against the couch, her eyes drifting shut.

Now all she could do was wait. Of course, Mick would be cured of his gallant idiot condition, and show her the door. She promised herself she could live with it, _would_ live with it. "Coraline, look me," she heard him urge her, and reluctantly obeyed, bracing herself.

**New York**

Beth didn't know if she could fake her way through the rest of the party. She didn't know if she could face Josef. What was she supposed to say? 'Hi, Josef. Gee, Sara's dead. Yep, that's right. So, you might as well just pull the plug. Oh, is there anymore champagne around?' Was there really any good way to rip someone's heart out?

"There you are." Josef's voice was behind her, warm and smooth. She bit back a groan. She was hoping to avoid him for at least a couple of hours.

"Hey." She hoped she came off casual enough. She got to her feet, turning slowly to face him. Josef looked boyish and endearing to her right this second, and she wondered if she was perceiving him differently because of the rush of sympathy flooding her system. "So, Mr. Moneybags, did you make good?"

"Always." He smirked at her, and she thought maybe she smiled back, but felt like she was in a daze. _How do I tell you, Josef? Could you handle it after all these years of holding on?_ "All right, Lois Lane, you want to spill it already or are we gonna play 20 questions? Something's wrong, an idiot could tell."

"Mr. Kostan, is this a display of actual concern?" Beth baited, internally freezing. Suddenly, she knew she couldn't tell him at all. She had to see if Sara had been reincarnated. If she was, at least she could offer him some shred of consolation. "Are you going soft?"

"Okay, now I'm just insulted." The amused gleam in his eyes suggested he was anything but. He inhaled deeply, rolling his eyes. "Oh, her. Vanessa Eastwood's the big bad contact you just had to see?"

"I thought it was worth a shot. She really didn't have much to offer up." The minute the lie was out of her mouth, Beth wondered if she was stepping on to thin ice. Lie detectors were based on heart rate, weren't they? Vampires didn't need the equipment; their ears were all the technology they needed!

Riding on near desperation to protect Josef as long as she could, Beth launched herself at him, attacking his mouth like a wild woman. She heard him grunt, maybe in surprise, maybe from lust, and lock his arms around her to steady her. Then he was ravaging her mouth right back, and she forgot about her original motivation, her hormones kicking into high gear.

She didn't care that they were in the gardens of a very public party. Sure, they were alone, but anyone could walk out. It didn't even bother her that she wasn't even friends with this man, and that he had a whole harem to screw at home, that she'd be easily discarded after he was done with her. All she was focused on was the hunger taking her body by storm, how talented that mouth was, and how much she wanted to rip his clothes off.

Her hands fisted in his jacket, yanking him closer, biting down on his lips savagely. He growled and thrusted his rock hard cock where she was almost embarrassingly wet and aching. It felt like she'd been celibate for decades, even though it had been less than a year. Of course, she'd never gotten worked up so fast either.

He yanked his mouth away, growling softly under his breath. "Are you messing with my head?" he demanded roughly. How he expected a coherent answer when he was stroking her breast through her dress, she had no idea.

"You talk too much," she panted, one hand gripping the back of his head so she could yank him into forward, her lips feeling bereft. He seemed to hesitate for a second, then obliged, catching her mouth in an almost bruising kiss. He continued to stroke her breast, their hips grinding against each other. It was rawer, more animalistic than their previous make-out session, and Beth didn't know if her knees could support her much longer. She sucked and pulled on his tongue, shaking from carnal cravings and acute frustration.

When his mouth pulled away again, she called out, not caring about the numerous supernaturally keen ears inside. His teeth tugged on the lobe of her ear, an action that went straight to the throbbing between her legs. Okay, and the way he was massaging her breasts was a major factor too. She clung to him for balance's sake. "If you're gonna put on the breaks, Beth, now would-"

"No," she moaned. "No!" Who the hell needed logic and common sense? She was on a physical overload here! She'd have plenty of times to play it smart, after a few hours in the sack. "Let's…oh!-get out of…here," she barely managed to suggest.

"Won't work," he gritted out, licking her neck, nipping with blunt teeth a few seconds later, sending little arrows pain of coated pleasure along her flesh. "Just take you in the car."

"So?" she demanded. She'd probably be embarrassed by this later, but was too far gone to care presently. She wondered if she'd just come, standing upright, with a new dress on, just from the two of them rocking together, hard and fast.

"Expensive upholstery," he explained. At least, that's what she thought he said, but he wasn't exactly articulating clearly.

"So?!" Let his damn ears ring. She was about ready to go crazy, and he cared about his stupid upholstery! Like he couldn't get it replaced, like he was on a tight budget. To make her point, she shifted her stance, reached down and grabbed him through his pants. His cocked strained hard against his layers of clothing.

"Upstairs," he snarled, dragging her towards the entrance.

They were halfway up the stairs before Beth had the presence of mind, or willpower to offer up any protests. "It's not our house." Not that he'd be listening much with her voice so husky.

He wasted precious seconds by stopping and giving her an incredulous look. It wasn't so effective when his eyes were glazed over, several shades paler than normal. "Beth, they have furnished rooms up here for a reason," he informed her. Then he was dragging her along up the rest of the stairs. He slipped a guard a hundred dollar bill, receiving a tiny gold key for his trouble.

_Anything for an extra buck,_ Beth thought dimly, unfazed. Then Josef was scooping her up, unlocking a cherry wood door in two seconds flat. In a wink, they were inside and she had a feeling, they wouldn't be anymore thinking for a while.


	14. Assertions

Wow, it's hard to believe I'm on chapter 14 already. I'm having so much fun writing this story, it's kind of taken on a life of it's own. Again, I love the reviews being sent in, always appreciated, each and every one of you.

**New York**

Her scent was driving him crazy, her body screaming for release. Not bothering to carry her to the bed, Josef pinned her against the wall, sinking his fangs into her neck, infusing the bite with every ounce of finesse and sexuality he could. She accepted his bite with a low moan of surrender, running her hands down his back, and gripping his ass tight, pulling him between her legs, rubbing up against him. He clamped down on the urge to suck her dry, careful to take only a tiny portion of the ambrosia running through her veins. He pulled away. After all, a vamp only had so much self-control.

More than happy to lap up the thin stream of blood leaking from the insignificant wound, Josef made quick work of the back of her dress, letting it fall to her attractive ankles. If she hadn't been wild and needy in his arms, he would have stepped back and admired her in the delicate blue lace bra and matching panties she was sporting. _Later, later, _he promised himself absently. Right now, he had other plans.

"Want to come?" he whispered in her ear, his fingers dipping beneath the flimsy barrier of her bra, now blunt teeth scraping around the fresh puncture wounds he'd made.

"Duh," she hissed. Ah, even half out of her mind, Beth still managed to have an attitude. Josef found it disturbingly endearing.

Shifting his stance so she was straddling his thigh, he thrust up against her hard, applying the friction in calculated doses, with only a thin layer of lace to protect her. A keening noise worked its way up in her throat, her nails digging into his back through his jacket and shirt, causing a pleasurable sting. He cupped her breast in his hand, manipulating his fingers over the sensitive area, avoiding her pebbled nipple for the time being. She arched her back, those pretty eyes rolling in the back of her head.

"Touch me, I need you to touch me," she panted, tearing his jacket away, yanking his shirt out of his waistband so she could touch his cool skin, explore his lean muscles.

"I am touching you," he rumbled sensually, and she shuddered. He tweaked her nipple softly, grinding his thigh against her sopping folds. Her underwear, he mused, was ruined.

"With your fingers," she gasped.

"And this is what, exactly?" He pinched her nipple harder, just enough to lace a little pain through her pleasure. She was working herself on his thigh, and her heat was searing him. If his hard-on wasn't verging on the territory of severely painful, he could have kept this up all night.

"Put pressure…on…on…my clit, Josef," Beth demanded. "Make me come."

"I will," he promised, voice raw. "But I don't need my fingers." He adjusted her angle on his thigh so he was hitting her clit directly, and she doubled her pace, dragging herself back and forth, the lace and the rough texture of his pants adding more stimulus than mere barrier. He admired the uninhibited display, it was the sexiest thing he'd seen in so long, and he was surrounded by glorified prostitutes all day, real pros at their craft.

They didn't hold a candle to her, to this. Not by a long shot.

He felt her body quaking, kept up his ministrations with his thigh to prolong the moment for her. He was caressing both of her breasts now, the left slightly more sensitive, he noted. Slightly larger, too, to the trained eye. She had faint stretch marks on her upper thighs, a left-over from a growth spurt, he supposed. It was the kind of thing he'd never see in one of his freshies, they were manufactured perfection. Beth was a striking woman, but just short of perfect. For some reason, that made her appeal to him all the more.

Sagging against the wall, Beth watched him with glazed eyes. "You're good," she admitted, a rueful smile tugging those tempting lips.

"Good? I'd say I'm downright amazing." He rested his cheek against her neck, relishing in the scent of fresh blood. She pouted when he took his thigh away, but didn't make verbal protest. He looked down at the huge damp spot on his slacks, sighed. Oh, well. What were dry cleaners for, after all? He held her for a moment, just enjoying her proximity, which really was a bizarre turn of events. He wasn't a snuggler, the last woman he'd bothered with was Sara. It felt like a betrayal to his sleeping beauty.

Brusquely pulling away from her, Josef examined her, and his brief disturbance instantly vanished. Flushed from her orgasm, body heaving with ragged breaths, she was gorgeous. Her bra and underwear covered everything the garments were originally meant to design, no thongs and nipple caps like he was used to, but in its way, this was just as sexy, leaving a little to the imagination. Not much, but a little.

Beth met his examination with a half smile, casually lounging against the wall. Well, while no jaded freshie, she was certainly no demure maiden either, actually somewhere in the middle. Her eyes ran down his body, resting on the pronounced bulge in his fly. "Problem?" she asked coyly.

"Nothing that a little attention wouldn't cure," he answered pointedly. "Get over here."

"Maybe I don't feel like it." Since she hadn't taken her eyes off the area under discussion, he didn't feel too worried about it. Besides, they both knew they were through playing games.

"If you want any kind of experience worth mentioning, you need to relieve the tension. You're a bright girl, I'm sure you'll think of something."

"So much for vampire stamina," she mocked good-naturedly. All the same, she was moving across the room, guiding him over to the bed, lowering him to sit on the edge. "Take off your shirt," she instructed, and like she had earlier, she squeezed him through his pants, and his hips surged forward, witty repartee forgotten. He disrobed from the waist down, kicking off his shoes and socks simultaneously.

Without being urged, she dragged his pants away, his boxers with it. She took a minute to take in the view, unconsciously licking her lips as she eyed what he had to offer. Oh, he wasn't under the impression he was huge, but was still fairly well endowed. Personally, Josef knew from personal experience a guy could be too large, contrary to popular myth.

Gently, she circled him with her slender fingers, drawing a low hiss from him. Her eyes drifted to his face, no insecurities in those clear blue eyes, only desire and curiosity. She began pumping him in a slow, steady rhythm, and before long, he was thrusting into her hand, a stream of growls and moans breaking free from between his lips. Beth seemed to be enjoying herself, feeling free to experiment after the initial familiarization, driving him crazy in the most delicious way possible.

Time had no meaning for Josef right now, the world centered around Beth's talented little hands, his own lust. He was torn between the urge to come and the urge to drown in the sensations she was giving him. She had a practiced touch, but lacked the rehearsed quality he was used to. This wasn't a performance for her, and that made it all the more potent. Not that he was analyzing her technique, or his own his reaction overmuch.

It could have been minutes or hours after she started, but when she gripped his balls and started massaging them, he all but howled. If her blood wasn't necessary, he would have spilled into her hand then and there. Without permission, he gripped her shoulder, jerking her upwards, and he sank his fangs into her upper breast. Even in the heat of the moment, he was still careful not to rip the flesh and to only take a sip or two. Why her personal comfort nagged at him so much, he didn't know. Again, he wasn't much with the analyzing.

When him and reality met up again, he opened his eyes to see her sitting back on her heels. "Open my purse and get me a wet one, would you?" she asked casually, gesturing to her soiled hands.

"So much for savoring the moment," he groused, but accommodated her, even went the extra mile, and opened the small package for her.

"Oh, don't worry," she assured him as she cleaned her hands. "There's plenty more moments to come…if you think you can handle it." After having the gall to issue that challenge, she tossed the used wet one into the trash, conveniently placed in the corner.

"I see. If anyone has to worry about keeping up, human, it's you," he announced, yanking her up on the bed before she even had time to blink. Her bra and soaked panties hit the floor in a second flat. Her eyes got wide and then she laughed.

"Neat trick," she allowed simply, her voice warm with her amusement.

"Oh, that's nothing." He laid her on the bed, hovering over her before giving her a grin that might have belonged to the devil himself. "I'm just getting started."

"You know what? I believe you." She was still amused, but erotic anticipation merged with the sentiment. "So why don't you get started already?"

**LA**

Whether he had his memory or not, Mick knew a bombshell when one hit him in the face. It was pretty self-explanatory, actually. He stared at Coraline, not sure how he should be feeling. He wasn't sure if he was glad or sorry she'd come clean with him. On one hand, it sure explained a lot, but on the other, he'd enjoyed the clean slate, the freedom to just enjoy her intoxicating presence, and how alive she made him feel. One thing was for sure, this complicated, flawed woman loved him, and he loved her. He probably always had, but his feelings had been buried under distrust and grudges, he sensed.

"Coraline, look at me," he requested. She was in a cooperative mood, because her eyes opened, and he could sense how much courage she'd exercised by being honest. Knowing the truth changed everything, but in a way, didn't change anything at all. It was weird. "Why did you decide to share this with me now? Are you trying to get rid of me to protect me, or were you trying to get ahead of any surfacing memories?"

"You don't trust me," she observed, more resigned about that than hurt or disappointed. "I don't blame you. After what-"

"Just answer the question." Maybe it didn't matter, and maybe he wouldn't get an honest answer anyway, but he wanted to hear what she had to say.

"Look, if you're going to risk your neck, you should at least have some facts to base your decisions on." She stood, paced a little. "I wanted a fresh start, Mick, a chance to win you back, I guess. I was hoping by the time you remembered…"

"It wouldn't matter anymore?" he speculated. The possibility that she might have set this whole thing up didn't even cross his mind. He remembered that first night when he initially came to, how genuinely shocked she felt when he showed his amnesia. He'd felt her shock. Faking that kind of surprise was a pretty tall order, even for Coraline, as talented as he suspected she could be.

"I wouldn't go that far," Coraline countered with a humorless smile. "So, now you know."

"So now I know," he agreed. He wasn't sure what she wanted to hear, and even less sure of what he wanted to say.

"I should probably start packing."

"You're right. We may need to make a hasty exit. We should probably pack light," he decided thoughtfully.

"That's not what I meant, Mick," she explained, sounding off guard.

"I know. But it's what I meant." He stood up, but didn't bridge the gap between them. "Coraline, just to be clear, I'm not sure I'm okay with what I just heard. I can't even process what I just heard. But it doesn't change the fact I love you, and I'm not going to throw you to the wolves. If Lance is after you, we don't have time to get in touch with our inner Doctor Phil, and become one with our emotions."

She snorted, her expression incredulous. "How do you even know about that over-paid guru? Your memory's wiped clean."

"We aren't joined at the hip, Coraline. Occasionally, I do channel surf," he informed her, grinning at her reaction. Even with his mind struggling to absorb everything, he got a kick out of being around her. Then he sobered, remembering the threat looming over their heads. "We're in this together, and that isn't changing. Got it?"

"Mick, this isn't your fight, this is between me and brother dearest." She sneered her way through the last two words.

"Got it?" he repeated firmly, ignoring her well-intended protest.

"If you're coming along for the ride, you do as I say, and don't pull any knight of the roundtable dramatics." Coraline was taking back the reigns of command, and that was fine with Mick. It was a no-brainer. She was older, stronger, knew the enemy better, and her memory was in full working order. Mick had no problem being in the passenger seat, as long as he came along for the ride.

"You're the boss." Maybe this wasn't the time, but he couldn't resist pulling her forward, merging their mouths, losing himself in the kiss. With a sob of relief, he felt her tug him forward, deepen the kiss, giving and taking, offering temporary escape. He stroked her curls, lost in her. He ran his tongue along her extending fangs, letting the razor edges slice, the cut vanishing even as his blood slid down her throat. She mimicked the gesture, he gratefully swallowed her offering.

The thrill of her blood flowing into his system coupled with the eroticism of the kiss was a high no narcotic would ever match. They were part of each other, he felt the bond keenly, a tangible link between them. It was tempting to physically consummate that bond, to assert himself as her mate in every sense of the word.

Not today, it couldn't be today. When they had sex, there wouldn't be any ghosts of past mistakes putting a damper on the moment, there wouldn't be any swords threatening to fall on their necks. His reason had been similar earlier in the freezer, and if he hadn't given in then, he wasn't giving in now.

Ending the kiss, Mick rested his forehead against hers. "It'll be okay," he told her, reassuring both of them.

"Lance is a freak show," Coraline snarled. "Don't underestimate him."

"Don't overestimate him either," Mick shot back. "Okay, he's powerful, but everybody's got an Achilles' heel. What's his?"

"His ego," Coraline answered thoughtfully. "And while we're on the subject, he doesn't tend to strain himself, he doesn't really have to. He has our other brothers do all his grunt work, and if I know my relations as well as I know I do, there's bound to be some resentment."

"That's something to work with." Mick gripped her shoulders, giving them a firm shake. "You're a predator, act like it. Show your fangs. You gonna let big brother walk all over you?"

Coraline blinked in surprise, a slow grin spreading on her lips, her teeth exposed. "You're right. I'm sure between the two of us; we can come up with something…inspired."


	15. Candles

I was going to get back to some kind of JoBe plot, but these two wanted to stay in the bedroom just a little bit longer. Since they're in for a bumpy ride, I thought I'd let them have their fun. Eris Fury, I'm not going to forget about Mick/Coraline, (very creative try, though) but this is the first chapter where JoBe will have the entire chapter to themselves, so hope that'll do. (Sorry, Intimate Stranger) But Mick and Coraline will be back next chapter, just warning all who don't like them. You could always just skip the 'LA' section, that's the best suggestion I can offer.

Thanks for all the reviews; you know it keeps me writing!

**New York**

Beth exited the bath Josef had drawn for her, steady hands toweling the warm water from her slightly red skin. Low music hummed from the bedroom, Josef had taken advantage of the impressive stereo set-up. The Temptation's _Get Ready_ was the song of choice, and Beth's foot unconsciously tapped along to the beat. She was faintly surprised Josef had stuck around, she half expected him to just speed off the second she exited the car. Instead, he'd walked her to the door of her penthouse, opened said door, and followed her in, heading into the bathroom and running her a nice, hot bath, near scalding, just the way she liked it.

The last few hours seemed surreal, almost reminding her of the one and only acid trip she'd taken in college. But nope, the slight but persistent soreness between her legs verified that her and Josef had indeed gone at it like there was no tomorrow. Beth had never gone several rounds in the space of hours, especially not recently.

By modern standards, Beth knew she wouldn't be considered an adventurous lover, but then, most of her boyfriends had been fairly vanilla by nature, especially Josh. The wildest boyfriend she'd ever had was in her college days, the one who'd done the honors of ridding her of that pesky virginity, as he'd put it.

Tyler's boyish image surfaced in her mind, his freckled, impish face swimming before her eyes. He'd been fresh out of Dublin, a transfer student, 'out to mingle with the yanks' for a couple years. They'd had a reckless, passionate romance, filled with good intentions and a lot of laughs. When they'd fallen into bed, he'd sworn it was forever, and she thought he meant it. Forever turned out to be exactly five months. When he'd ended it, claiming things had gotten monotonous, he'd shattered her heart. Well, they said the first major break-up was always the hardest, and from her experience, that was true.

She'd reacted by plunging into a re-bound affair with her Social Psychology professor just two weeks later. What could she say? He'd had a lot of pretty words, and made her feel good about herself, and the sex had been more than decent. Too bad the guy turned out to be a total player, and married to boot. Beth vowed to play it safer in the future, go for nice, dependable guys that wouldn't break her heart or play her. She'd stayed single for almost a two year stretch, older and wiser by the time she tried again, cautiously this time, and fell into a pattern of sorts.

Eventually, that path had led her to Josh, to the very epitome of safety and dependability. She'd thought that her lifestyle choice was the smart one, but her impulsive romp with Josef made her realize how long it had been since she felt alive, how long it'd been since she wasn't just going through the motions, saying lines from an already written script. It felt like the part of her that had been missing since her Sophomore year of college was finally clicking back into place.

Not that a fling with Josef was the golden ticket, either. There were huge issues at stake-Sara, Mick's possible bad reaction to the woman he had serious feelings for and his best friend hitting the sheets, and Beth's career as a journalist, something she'd spent her entire adult life building, possibly being toast.

But until dawn showed its ugly mug, she was going to have every second of fun she could, soak up every ounce of pleasure there was to have, if Josef was game. It'd probably be an isolated incident, but that was fine. Life could be complicated…later. With that resolve firmly in her mind, she wrapped herself in the satin robe hanging up on the door, stepping into the bedroom.

"Feel better?" Lounging languidly on the bed, he was naked from the waist up, his feet bare. He was clad only in Chinese silk boxers. His eyes seemed to be eating her up. He reminded her of a lion, a decadent but incredibly powerful one.

"It wasn't so bad before." She offered him a sultry smile, taking a leisurely stroll over to the bed to prolong the anticipation. "You could have joined me."

"I wanted to give you some time to recover. Besides, the night's still young, and human females can wear out so easily. Good thing they have…redeeming qualities." He unfastened her robe, giving it a slight shove off her shoulders, and Beth allowed it to slide down her arms and completely away. He gripped her hips, smirking. "Better. It seems criminal to hide a perfectly good view. Never forget I aimed to be pleased."

"Mmm. Speaking of nice views…" she dragged her fingers down his chest, lightly scratching with her nails, earning a small purr out of him. "I think I'm enjoying my end of the deal." She traced a finger down his boxers, tracing the outline of his cock through the silk. She almost removed the expensive garment, decided against it. She remembered how he'd used her own underwear to add friction, and decided turn about was fair play. Tonight was all about trying something new, after all.

The silk was slippery, and it took a few tries to be able to grip him through the thin barrier. Josef growled in impatience, his claws flexing, but he didn't make a move to interfere. She molded the silk to his length and began to manipulate the fabric over him, taunting with its caress. "Hell," he moaned, running his hands through her hair. It felt dangerously like affection, but she told herself he didn't even know his full name, much less what he was doing.

Yanking her down by the hair with one hand, and tugging his boxers off, he had her pinned underneath him without much effort, nipping at her neck with what seemed like wild abandon, but Beth knew he was restraining himself. She'd be in massive pain otherwise, even with his blunt teeth. He was rubbing intimately against her, and her body began to stir. Loving the feel of his ass under her hands, she gripped it, this time intentionally sinking her nails into the taunt flesh. "Yesss," he hissed, sounding almost delirious. But when she did it again, he grabbed her arms, yanking her wrists away. "Don't. I can't…You're not ready yet," he rasped. "Won't hurt you."

Beth's native curiosity would have demanded she mull over that statement, but when ones body was undergoing a full blown sensual assault, that was pretty much out of the question. He was doing things to her body she'd only read about when she'd satisfied her guilty pleasures with online smut, and she couldn't get enough. She felt an instinctive need to return the favor, but he wouldn't let her touch him.

"Josef!" she whined.

"Be a good girl," he snarled.

"Don't wanna," she moaned, thrusting up needily against him. She was sure as hell ready now. She wanted him inside her, moving in that age old rhythm.

Before she knew it, both her wrists were pinned above her head, stretching out her body vulnerably. She closed her eyes, gulping down air as fast as she could. Her lungs were burning; she felt feverish, and the ache between her legs had a ferocious life of its own. She all but screamed when he ran the tip of his cock over her sopping folds, her desire taking on new heights. It was delicious, but not the friction she needed for release.

"Inside me," she commanded gutturally.

"Like this?" he whispered seductively, thrusting a single finger inside her. She grinded against his hand, futilely struggling to free her wrists from his hold, but of course, didn't have much luck with that. "Or like this?" He plunged into her, and she arched up to meet him. She clamped down hard on him, afraid he was going to withdraw completely, just be a jackass. Her wrists were released, and she was touching him everywhere she could reach, feeling like she'd just swallowed a case of black crystal.

He rode her hard, his eyes pale, his fangs glinting in the moonlight. She struggled to keep up with his pace, sensations bombarding her. She wanted him even harder, deeper, wanted his fangs inside her flesh, wanted every dark delight he could give her. The fact he could snap her in two, that he could drain her dry just added a layer of excitement.

Josef shifted his position so he could torture her left breast with his mouth, scraping his fangs against the soft flesh, a dangerous gesture that had Beth crying out. She really had something to scream about when Josef gripped her hips and went completely still inside her. She bared her teeth at him, her frustrations ripping her apart. The bastard had the nerve to smile smugly, flick her nipple with his tongue. She put up a struggle to dislodge her hips, but again, no good.

So, she squeezed him, using her inner muscles to punish him. He groaned low, reaching down between their bodies and pinching her clit. The orgasm crashed into her, transformed her, this new definition of bliss. It took a long time for her to come back down to herself, but not long enough. She'd wanted it to go on forever. She couldn't believe how hard she was panting, how hard she was clutching Josef. He was still rock hard and throbbing inside her.

"What…?" she asked huskily, both confused and impressed.

"You think I'm finished?"

"Hope not," she shot back at him, arching her hips, eager for more. Fortunately, he was in an accommodating mood, and took her cue. The rhythm was slower, though the measured tempo was obviously costing him. His jaw was clenched; sweat popping out on his forehead. She wrapped her legs high around his waist, purring in delight when he hit new places.

It was almost embarrassing the amount of times she came before he sank his fangs into her breast, just above her nipple. If there was pain with her pleasure, she didn't notice, too lost in another amazing orgasm, blind and deaf to anything but the ecstasy flooding her system. Her poor body simply shut down, having gone through one overload too many.

It was two o'clock in the morning when she came back to, flat on her stomach, feeling achy and lethargic. She felt a cool touch whisper down her spine, and she sighed, stretching out. Firelight danced from the fireplace, casting a golden glow, the only source of light. Well, it figured. Vampires probably weren't fans of glaring illumination. The heat was turned up, and she felt toasty warm. The temperature was probably annoying the hell out of Josef, though, she reflected with a frown.

"Are you okay?" she blurted.

"Since you're the one who passed out, I think that's my line." Oh, sure, because the smug tone of his voice sounded oh, so concerned.

"I meant the heat, smartass." She rolled her eyes, fighting a smile. Man, all the sex must have fried her brain, because she was almost starting to enjoy his company. Yeah, had to be the sex.

"Well, we can't have you diving under the covers, now can we? I can take it as long as I hit the freezer come dawn. It's really a shame," he mused, actually sounding regretful. She turned her head, looking at him over her shoulder in curiosity. What brought his sudden turn in mood about? "You would have made an intriguing vampire. But shucks, I'm not in the market for a fledgling."

For some reason that stung, and she had to shake her head. She really needed to get it together. Just because he was good in bed was no reason to go to pieces. "Who said I was in the market for a sire? Like I want to drink blood for eternity? Please. Talk about boring."

"Blood has variety human nourishment can't even begin to compete with," Josef argued. "No one person, even twins, has the same exact flavor, so each meal is unique. Of course, there are similarities based on blood type, race, gender, aura-"

"Aura?" Beth rolled on to her side, her interest caught. Not a modest person by nature, she didn't even think about covering up. "So people have actual auras?"

"Character, aura, good/evil factor, whatever you like. The more corrupt an aura is, the spicier the blood. Most vamps prefer young, innocent blood because it's sweet."

"Is my blood sweet?" She imagined that Sara's had been relatively, probably more than most, and forced herself not to feel defensive. Geez, it wasn't like she was in competition with the apparently dead woman, like she had to measure up. Not that he knew about the dead part. She felt a pang of guilt. His love was dead, and her grand solution was roll around with him, going at it like an animal in heat.

Josef started to answer her question, but changed his mind, inspecting her closely. "Why the guilt?"

"Guilt?" Uncomfortable, she flopped on her back, toying with the idea of distracting him again. Nah. Josef was sharp, and wouldn't be so easily managed this time. She searched her mind swiftly, coming up with a half-truth, hoping it would be convincing enough. "You know, Mick and all."

"I don't see his name tattooed onto your ass, blondie." Now it was Josef's turned to look uncomfortable. Only slightly, but with Josef, a little went a long ways. "I thought you said-"

"I know what I said, but this is going to hurt him."

"Maybe, maybe not," Josef replied thoughtfully, attempting his usual indifference. 'Maybe?' What did that mean? "If so, I'm sure he'll get over it. He'll probably lament the loss of your glorious love, and it'll probably hurt to see you fall off your pedestal for a while, but vamps are resilient, even Mick."

She ignored the jab, not in the mood to play that game. "You don't seem sure he'll be fazed. You want to share with the rest of the class?"

"Oh, you never know. Maybe he's fallen for a hot babe and is finally getting some as we speak." Beth doubted it, but didn't want to invite any of Josef's commentary. "Speaking of getting some…" The next she knew, he was pouncing on her, giving into a playfulness that was as endearing as it was arousing.

Over the next few hours, they enjoyed several rounds of good unclean fun, and Beth almost passed out several times again. As dawn approached, she was exhausted, and she knew she'd overdone it. There would be hell to pay. She'd probably be walking funny for two days. She groaned as she swung her legs over the bed.

"Going somewhere?" He arched an eyebrow, but didn't physically make a move to stop her.

"I've got to pee," she told him bluntly. Well, if he wanted to a one-night stand with a human, this went along with the territory.

"Ah, the joys of humanity. I'll never understand why Mick wants to get back to Kansas so bad." Beth decided to leave him to his musings, gingerly making her way to the opulent bathroom. She took her time, half expecting Josef to have pulled a vanishing act by the time she returned. She tried not to acknowledge she was glad he hadn't when she reentered the room, as he was still lounging naked on the bed. Okay, definitely glad about the nude thing… Too bad she was too sore and tired to do anything about it.

"Are you in a hurry for me to get out of your hair?" The question surprised her. For one, she hadn't figured on him staying, and in the second place, since when did he care about her preferences?

"Uh, er, no. No. I just thought with the lack of freezer-" she abruptly stopped talking when Josef got off the bed, sauntered over to the bedroom wall, and removed a seemingly decorative candle from a gilded candlestick. The wall slid away to reveal a freezer chamber. "Very _Young Frankenstein_," she said in approval.

Smirking, Josef stepped past her, affectionately patting her butt. "I thought of the candle thing first. Sleep well, Beth." She saw him put the candlestick in a holder attached to the freezer wall. Then the wall was sliding back into place, and it looked as normal as ever. Shaking her head, Beth headed to the bed for some much needed sleep.


	16. Calls

Well, I'm glad everyone loved the JoBe festivities. They're a lot of fun to write, and I appreciate the reviews. Apparently, I was responsible for several heat waves. Heh, heh. On with the show, then.

**New York**

Josef was gone when Beth woke up the next morning. She wasn't surprised. She hadn't envisioned breakfast in bed, or a snuggle fest while they whispered sweet nothings in each other's ear. And honestly, she didn't want any of that. A night of bed games was one thing, but prolonged intimacy was out of the question. The guilt that Josef had picked up on last night would be rearing its ugly head again, and Beth had already switched into professional mode. The sooner she got this resolved, one way or the other, the sooner they could all deal, and get on with life.

Ignoring the tell-tale stiffness in her body, she took a quick shower, blow-dried her hair, and dressed, not wasting time with make-up or more than a simple brushing and a squirt of hairspray to her hair. She picked up Sara's diary. Josef had dropped it off last night when he came to get her for the party. He hadn't been thrilled about forking it over, but when she started nagging at him about its importance in the research department, he quit bitching, and cooperated.

Sara's entries were relatively short, brimming with dreams and girlish gushing. It reminded Beth somewhat of how she'd been in high school, when she'd believed in Prince Charming, when she hadn't believed she'd ever be jaded. Like in Sara's case, Beth had been an only child, born after years of trying for a baby. You add that to a case of kidnapping? Well, needless to say, Beth had been coddled in the extreme. Just like Sara.

But like Sara, Beth found the over-protection that came with that kind of adoration stifling. Sara had been more dutiful, and merely worked around her father's suffocating habits, while Beth had fought against it, kicking at the walls of her cocoon until she broke free. To this day, Beth and her mother still had issues, as the elder female resented Beth's break from her authority.

Not wanting to dwell on an age-old problem, Beth got down to the nitty-gritty, methodically going over the entries, searching for clues. It didn't take long for her to get to her meeting with Josef, and the journal took on a new twist. Whatever else it may have been, it was the story of a girl slowly coming into womanhood, absorbing various shocks to the system with more grace than her sheltered upbringing and healthy naïve streak would have suggested she'd be able to.

Still, she hadn't really gotten the big picture, Beth couldn't help but notice. Josef was a romantic, tortured hero in her rose-colored vision, their love something out of Beauty and the Beast. Beth had to admit, in the beginning, she hadn't really taken the whole vampire thing seriously enough herself. The idea of vampires, after the initial freak-out, had been a major thrill, and she'd almost treated it like a game. If she'd been dealing with another vampire than Mick, it could have easily ended up in a Titanic-type disaster.

If Josef had been the one she'd been dealing with, would he have killed her to keep her quiet? The internal question gave her pause. Josef was ruthless, and she knew he didn't have anywhere close to the delicate sensibilities of his younger friend, but he wasn't vicious, or needlessly destructive. He would have tried bribery or raw intimidation, and definitely wouldn't have trusted her as far as he could throw the Empire State building, but for some reason she sensed, unless she endangered his secret, she'd be as alive and healthy as she was today.

Of course, if Josef had been the one she was dealing with, he wouldn't have gotten caught. Sara was one thing. She was an innocent, harmless teenager who wouldn't know how to endanger his race. From what she'd read in the journal, it was obvious to Beth that Josef, subconsciously or not, had been leaving a trail of breadcrumbs right to the truth. Sara had guessed because Josef allowed her to guess. Again, that was one thing.

Beth was a whole other story. She wasn't a kid, and she knew her way around, wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty. And more than anything, she made her trade in the media. Hell, Beth herself wouldn't have trusted her fellow reporters with any secrets, so why should Josef have trusted a virtual stranger? No, if Josef had been in Mick's place, Beth never would have figured it out. L.J. would have been dead long before he got a chance to pump him full of silver. And if not, he never would have let his guard down enough for her to see.

Beth spent the rest of the morning and into the afternoon reading Sara's journal. While it was definitely worth its weight in gold as far as a history lesson, and gave her valuable insight into Josef's relationship with Sara, it didn't tell her jack squat otherwise. No mention of Lola, or any female even closely resembling her description.

After she was done, she made the necessary phone calls, feeling like she was playing a circle game before too long. Fortunately, her job had groomed her well, and she had enough patience to wait the process out. Finally, she had the name and number that might go somewhere. Fingers proverbially crossed, she dialed, listening to the phone ring.

"Emily Jones," a voice with a heavy New York accent greeted.

"My name is Beth Turner. Are you Emily Jones, the psychic? I was referred to you by Jennifer Steel." She waited a beat, not sure what to expect.

"What can I do you for, hon?" She sounded warm and friendly, but surprisingly normal.

"I understand that you're legit, one of the best. I need your help."

"Well, I figure you didn't call me up for a good gossip." She chuckled lightly at her own joke. "This supernatural? That's usually my forte, which Jennifer oughta have mentioned."

"It has shades, but not directly." Beth didn't plan on spilling her guts to a faceless voice. "What's your commission?"

"Ah, a gal that's not afraid to get right down to brass tacks. I like that in a client. Eh, that really depends on the case. I'd have to hear what exactly it's gonna take to get the job done."

"We'll have to meet in person," Beth declared firmly.

"Just as well. I'm no good over the phone. Gotta be face to face to do a reading," Emily admitted. "If this involves a third party that won't be there, or can't be there, you better bring me something personal that I can touch. You know, to get a feel."

"I understand." Honestly, Beth had never put too much stock in psychics, seen too many phonies in her time, but if there were 300 vampires in LA alone, anything was possible. "When's a good time for you?"

"Tomorrow, at three?" They quickly settled on an address and disconnected the call. After tomorrow, Beth knew she'd be one step closer to finding out if Sara was out there somewhere.

The rest of the evening was spent verifying Vanessa Eastwood's conclusion, and wasn't surprised when she couldn't find anything to refute it. Bummed, but not surprised.

Okay, so it was official. Sara was really dead. All Beth could hope for was that there was someone out there, with her soul, so Josef would have someone to hold on to.

_What about you? _An annoying voice whispered in her head and she rolled her eyes. A night of hot sex did not a bond make. Sure, she liked him outside of the sack, he was definitely entertaining and diverting, but so what? She could probably find 10 to 20 guys that fit that bill easy, and weren't half the headache.

Feeling restless, she impulsively hit Mick's number on speed dial. She missed him. He was a comforting presence if nothing else, and she'd come to lean on his friendship. She just hoped he understood that friendship was where it stopped. Now that she reflected on it, she realized Josef was right. She had led him on, and but she knew Mick would forgive her eventually.

"Mick St. John," he answered brusquely.

"Well, good day to you, too," she teased. "What's with the professional touch?"

"Hello." His voice softened, but didn't become any more personal. "What can I do for you?"

Did he somehow know about her tryst with Josef and was already reacting? Irrational worry gripped her gut, but she forced herself not to obsess. Unless Josef put out an article in _Vampire Weekly_ there was no way for him to possibly know. Besides, she hadn't done anything wrong, she told herself. Both her and Josef were single, and she hadn't made Mick any promises…verbally or intentionally, anyway.

"I just felt like a chat. It's been a while since I've managed to get ahold of you, come to think of it." She purposefully paused, giving him time to fill in the blanks, but he didn't. "Our friendship is important to me, Mick."

"All right, I appreciate that. It's not that I mind you called, I just…it's pretty crazy down here." Now he sounded apologetic, but still distant, not like himself.

"Do you need any help?" It would be stretching herself pretty thin, but for Mick, she was willing to bite the bullet.

"There's nothing you can do. Thanks anyway."

"Um, okay." Something was wrong, really wrong. Whatever was 'crazy' was really working a number on him. "Mick, talk to me. Something's-"

"There's really nothing to talk about," he dismissed politely. "It's work, I'm sure you understand. Just watch out for yourself, it's pretty brutal out there. Gotta go."

"But, Mick, we just started talking," she protested.

"I'm sorry about that, but I'm pretty busy. Take care, okay?" Then the other line was dead, and Beth was left staring at her cell phone in bewilderment.

**LA**

Coraline came down the stairs in time to hear the last bit of the conversation, her body tensing at the sound of Beth's voice. She gritted her teeth. Her and Mick were on shaky ground as was; she didn't need any more trouble. And if anyone would have loved to make trouble for her, it was Beth Turner.

"How was your chat?" she asked lightly, carefully feeling out his mood.

"Distracting," he replied absently. She allowed herself to relax just a degree. So far, so good. Obviously, nothing too explosive had gone down over the phone, but if Coraline had learned anything in the many decades as a vampire, it was to always expect the other shoe to drop. "We don't need any distractions right now. Are you all set?"

"Humph, today's the easy part." Coraline waved a hand about blithely, going over the plan they had formed yesterday. "Later is when it get's rocky. I still don't think you're taking Lance seriously enough. I've seen sweeter Pythons."

"Coraline, my memory is shot, not my brain," he drawled. "I get that he's not a big teddy bear that we can just ask real nice to back off. Why do you think we hammered out a strategy to deal with him? But again I say, it's a big mistake to give him too much power. It sounds like he feeds on fear, get's off on it."

"I'm not crawling into a corner and cowering," Coraline snapped, more angry with herself than Mick. She despised the affect Lance had always had on her, the power he exerted over her. She'd always fantasized about dancing on his grave. Mick raised an eyebrow at her, and she let out a harsh sigh. "Sorry, I'm on edge."

"Good, that'll come in handy if things are gonna go according to plan. He'd be suspicious if you weren't."

"True." Pity the bastard was so damned perceptive, she reflected. It would make it harder for Mick to pull off his end. "Are you sure you've got the acting chops to sell your pitch?"

"Oh, I'm already preparing my acceptance speech for that Oscar," he assured her. "Sure Cynthia will be on board?"

"The day Cynthia doesn't come through for me is the day I start worrying about impending Armageddon," she informed him wryly. "Of course, I've always made her loyalty well worth her while."

"What's the deal with you two? You go way back?"

"Since the 1920's." Coraline's eyes became distant with memories. "She was hooking to make ends meet. I got her off the streets, groomed her. She's one of the few females I've ever been able trust not to have the knife handy to plant in the back."

"What was in it for you?" She didn't take that question as an insult, vampires were self-preservationists by nature, watched their own backs, and the backs of their own. Acts of charity were loaded with ulterior motives a mile wide.

"Of course, I was a far more superior model, but I saw a little bit of myself in her. I was a courtesan in France…a long time ago." Flashes of powdered wigs, ruthlessly drawn corsets, and endless intrigue filled her mind briefly. Then she snorted diversely. "Now that was an art."

"I'll just have to take your word for that one. I talked to her earlier, and she was giving me major attitude. She treated me almost like…"

"A rival?" she supplied wearily.

"Yeah." Mick aimed her a puzzled look. "How did you know?"

"Let's just say you two have never been poker buddies. I think she's always been jealous of you." Not wanting to dwell on Cynthia's neurosis, she quickly changed the subject. "Do you have everything you need for our little production?"

"I've got everything prepared for our appreciative audience of one," Mick promised her, an air of anticipation rich in his voice. He was savoring the thrill of the chase, enjoying the act of drawing the trap around Lance. If nothing else, she'd given him this, Coraline decided. Mick was coming into his own, becoming the vampire she'd always dreamed he could be. No fear now, no pesky inhibitions.

On impulse, she kissed him, pouring every ounce of love and skill she had into the act, delighting in the strangled sound he made, the low growl of lust when he took carnal possession of her eager mouth. She loved the hot and sharp pleasure they generated together. It had never been this good with anyone else, ever.

When she pulled away, they were entangled, their limbs taunt with sexual frustration. "Duty calls, damn," she muttered ruefully.

"You know what they say, anticipation's half the fun." He nipped her neck, then lightly pushed her away, winking at her growl of mock outrage. Despite the fact her body was churning with no relief in sight, at least the Mick variety of relief, this felt so good. Coraline was too jaded to believe in miracles, but maybe this was as close as she needed it to be. He knew one of her darker secrets, his turning, and he still hadn't turned away from her. Maybe she did have a shot after all.

_Yeah, right. It'll just come down worse later,_ she warned herself. At this rate, she was going to start believing in the tooth fairy and Santa.

"I'm off to see Cynthia," she announced. "Don't worry, I'll make it clear you two have to place nice for this to work, but not too nice." She felt jealousy bubble up. It was common for vampire allies to go a few rounds in bed to seal the deal. "If I know my brother, he should show up here, soon. Watch your back."

Last night, they'd set the bait very strategically. Coraline and Mick had set out, Coraline scenting the air for the reek of her brother's decay. Finally, she'd felt his presence, and had launched into quite the performance with Mick. They'd built up a verbal battle, going from mild bickering, to scathing barbs. She thought their performances were golden, but whether Lance had fully bought what they were selling remained to be seen. Either way, he'd certainly reserve judgment until he spoke to Mick. He'd followed them home, so he naturally knew where to look, just as they'd counted on.

"Gee, coach, you put me in the game, let me play. Go on, get out of here. He's probably chomping at the bit as we speak."

"You're right, we don't want him to get too pissy," she agreed. "It'll give him too much time to think clear. He always thinks better when he's having a tantrum."

She headed out quickly, knowing she'd let her love for Mick cloud her judgment if she lingered. She felt her throat closing with fear, fear that Lance would see through the charade, and she'd find Mick's head on a pike when got back. She clutched her gun in her purse with the silver bullets loaded and ready to fire. If her worst nightmare came to pass, she'd only need one.


	17. Plots

Sorry for the long space between updates. Life can get crazy, you know? Sometimes fanfic has to go on the bottom of the priorities list. Anyway, I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. It's really not a JoBe chapter, but it's really not about the Mick/Coraline connection either, at least not romantically. Again, thanks to everyone for the reviews. As always, Intimate Stranger, I appreciate the support.

**LA**

His sister was quite the clever bitch, Lance reflected as he entered the apartment building. No match for him, certainly, but a worthy opponent nonetheless. Out of all their siblings, she was the only one that had ever been up to snuff as either an ally or an opponent. He almost wished he had time to toy with her, to really drag out the game. Oh, the dice was loaded, naturally, and she could run, but there would be no hiding. Games were so much more fun that way.

Unfortunately, orders were orders, and dear ol' grandsire, Dominic, wasn't known for his flexibility or love of democracy. If Lance wanted to hold his spot as the favorite, his rightful place in the clan, he'd follow those orders. And why not? Coraline being on their grandsire's shit list suited him from the ground up. If he was lucky, she'd been burning in hell by next week. Pity she'd probably just get off with a decade of torture before she was given another chance. Dominic had a soft spot for her, probably because the old leech wanted a ride between her legs, and Coraline had obliged him through the years. It was Lance's observation that powerful women often exploited or denied their own sexuality. It was pitifully obvious which category sister dearest fell into.

So where did Mick St. John fall into all this? They weren't rutting, although the stench of their hormones was coming off them in waves. It wasn't like Coraline to abstain, so what was her ploy? And certainly, these two had history, the stuff Shakespeare would have wet himself over. These two had a history of surprise turnings, legendary fights followed by days of mating, extreme bouts of separation, and finally, a little fire to finish things off with. If it hadn't been for Coraline's knack of making useful friends, she would have been finished.

Even Lance himself, though his power offered quick regeneration, couldn't have withstood an inferno that massive. Why his sister would cozy up to an ex-husband who roasted her alive, he'd never know. And if she wanted him, why not take him? From what his sire, Veronica had told him, Coraline had risked her own life to drag this Mick from the flames. Was she entering a new level of idiocy, or was there an ingenious scheme up her sleeve? Not that it really mattered, of course, because any plans of hers were about to be interrupted.

Whatever his sister's motives, it seemed like her and Mick had stayed true to form, and were at each other's throats for now. Oh, their little spat last night was nothing compared to some of their past battles, but it was encouraging nonetheless. Who knows? Maybe lover boy was for sale. Strictly speaking, Lance didn't need help, but why not go the easy route if it was available? Besides, it would be delicious to feel Coraline's agony when her beloved turned out to be a Judas.

Lance didn't waste any time making his way to Mick's apartment. He had to work fast. He didn't how long Coraline would be, wherever she was going. Naturally, he was having her tailed, so he'd have full disclosure as to her activities, but for now, his mind was on other things. Hopefully, by the time she came back, the first domino would fall on her pretty head.

He didn't bother knocking; entrances were so much more effective when meaningless gestures were abandoned. The only other vampire in the room must have smelled him coming, but didn't bother putting down the heavy novel he was pouring over. It was a deliberate gesture of indifference, and Lance had annihilated vamps for less. However, since Mick St. John suited his agenda amply, he'd let this one slide…until he didn't need him anymore.

"Wrong apartment?" the younger vamp drawled, and Lance felt a wave of ennui coming on strong. Oh, goody. Quips.

"I know exactly where I am." Mick put down his book, finally gave him his attention. It wasn't satisfying. Lance had come to enjoy evoking fear, or at least respect in others. He felt neither coming from this whelp. His devious mind mulled this over, finally concluding that this audacity might be a good sign. He had no use for wimps, though most of his siblings fit that bill. "Do you know who I am?"

"I'm guessing you aren't the mailman." Oh, please.

"I'm Lance de Guise. I'm looking for the vampire who calls herself Coraline St. John."

"Good for you." Irritation splintered beneath his skin, and he briefly wondered if he should put this piss ant in his place, show him who was alpha here. Later, he promised himself, he'd do just that. For now, he might as well keep it civilized. "And this is my problem because…?"

"I can smell her scent all over this rat hole. She's obviously made herself at home, so let's cut the bullshit." His comment earned a quirked eyebrow from the other male, who lazily got to his feet. "Where is she?"

"Not her keeper, sorry. Can I leave a message?" The latter comment was loaded with sarcasm, and Lance wondered how Mick St. John had the balls to play this game. He was a mere child, and a weak child at that. Had sniffing around Coraline delivered him a dose of delusion? Did he think because he'd married into a powerful bloodline he was somebody? Or did this vampire have his own agenda?

_Nonsense, _an inner voice dismissed. Lance had done his research on this piddling P.I., knew his patterns all too well. For the last two decades or so, he'd played the do-gooder, acting like a neutered dog. He wasn't vampire enough to play on Lance's level. However, if the rumors were true, he did have enough motive to turn on Coraline, play the puppet for the sake of revenge and possible gain.

"What's she to you?" Lance demanded.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," Mick countered smoothly. "Ex-boyfriend maybe?"

"Oh, Coraline's got enough ex-lovers for her own personal army, naturally, but I'm not in the ranks." Lance smiled dryly, wondering if Mick knew just how used his ex-wife's goods were, even by vampire standards. He didn't get much of a reaction, so decided to move on. "Actually, she's my beloved sister. Has she mentioned me?"

"Hmm. I think if she'd mentioned a brother with centuries of decay and a jet black eye it would have registered. Any reason why she should have?"

"Don't tell me, after all these years, you actually trust Coraline?"

Mick's laughter was quick and derisive. "Trust her? If you think I'm that stupid, you don't have a clue."

"She's heading for a downfall," Lance announced with grim delight. "She'll pull you down with her, if you let her. She's dragged you down before, I would imagine. However, there are alternatives."

"And here I was getting worried," Mick announced dryly. "Let me guess. You have a few suggestions."

"Don't go down with the ship," Lance advised. This was shaping up to be easier than he thought. "You're on the wrong side right now."

"I'm not on anybody's side," Mick informed him casually. "I'm just a working-class guy minding my own business. Why don't you and Coraline duke it out on your own time?"

"Not too swift on the uptake, are you?" Lance shook his head, circling the P.I., confident he had the younger vampire pegged. "You married into the most powerful vampire bloodline on this planet, but you'd never know it." He gestured around him. "Coraline's kept her puppy where she wants him, hasn't she? Follow my lead, and the sky's the limit."

"Let me guess: Power, wealth, women." Mick might as well have just said: Blah, blah, blah.

"So what exactly do you want?" Lanced wanted it on the table.

"You disappoint me, Lance. You paint me in such an unoriginal light." Lance decided he really hated that piss ant's smirk. "If you knew anything about me, the answer should be obvious. I want what Coraline stole from me. I want my humanity back."

"Do you?" _Well, each to their own,_ Lance decided dismissively. "Well, that can be arranged."

"And you want me to do what? Hog tie Coraline?"

"If that's what does it for you, fine. But for myself, I was thinking of something far more subtle. I'm sure my sister thinks she still has a card to play, and I want to keep it that way for now. Tell me, what charming confidences has she made?"

Mick scoffed. "Look, Lance, if she hasn't even brought you up, it isn't likely she's going to discuss strategy."

"True enough." Lance wasn't sure Coraline had been as tight-lipped as Mick was letting on, but it didn't really matter. Now that he had the carrot dangled in front of the P.I.'s face, he had the puppet he'd come to buy. When it was over, he'd cut the strings, having got everything for nothing.

"How does the cure work? Is it permanent?" Oh, this was like stealing candy from a baby. Or, in Lance's case, a baby from its mother.

"It can be," Lance lied easily. "Naturally, you shall have the permanent version."

"Naturally." Did he hear sarcasm? His sharp eyes evaluated the younger vampire, searching for suspicion. A moment of evaluation offered him no further insight. Well, even if this Mick St. John had bought a clue, he could cut him off at the knees before Mick had a chance to strike, Lance reasoned. "So, what do you want me to do?"

"Confide to Coraline about this little visit…the edited version, of course. Pour on the charm, get her to open up. Any information she leaks, you will pass on to me."

"How do I-"

"Get in touch with me?" Lance finished with a smirk of his own. "You don't, I'll be keeping very close ties. After all, you are…family, aren't you?"

"Excuse me if I don't get all warm and fuzzy," Mick retorted. "I don't mean to be a bad host, but you'd better make yourself gone. She could come back at any second."

"That would spoil the surprise, wouldn't it? So, I take it we have a deal?"

"Oh, trust me, we have a deal," Mick agreed. Lance could all but hear the thoughts of humanity dancing in his pea brain. Well, in any case, he wouldn't have to worry about being a vampire much longer. On his way out, he heard Mick say, "Weren't counting on the memory coming back so soon, were you, Coraline?" but didn't know what to make of it, so didn't waste too much time pondering it.

A few hours later, he stepped into his temporary residence a few miles outside of LA. It was more of a fortress than a mansion, but didn't lack any beauty for its security, both modern and old-fashioned. He headed to his sound proof basement, pausing outside the door to consult with his head of security, Milton. "I presume your trip to New York was fruitful?"

"I have the requested merchandise on the other side of that door," Milton assured him.

"Good. You get to keep your head another day." He opened the door, his eyes zeroing in on the helpless heap chained to the wall. To avoid any obnoxious screaming, she'd been tightly gagged, but she was making all the noise she could, muffled obscenities and empty threats spewing from her lovely mouth.

"Come, come, Miss Turner," Lance admonished with mock horror. "I'm sure you don't mean it." Those luminous blue eyes narrowed into a glare that was almost admirable, under the circumstances. "After all, I'm here to offer you what all human beings crave…immortality."


	18. Reunions

For all those who offered feedback, I really appreciate it. I try not to be a review glutton, but I get such a kick out of them, especially the detailed ones. So for those who take the time, you know I'm thinking of you when I write. There's a lot going on in this chapter, and it may seem random, but I promise, it'll all tie in together by the time I'm finished. If it seems grim, just hang on!

**New York**

Josef sank into a chair by Sara's side, the beeping from the machines a knife in his ears, taunting him…threatening his sanity. He let out a short, bitter laugh. You really couldn't do better for irony. He'd seen torch bearing mobs, not only seen them, but had been their guest of honor. He'd seen more wars than you could shake a stick at, some fought for survival, some for freedom, some for greed, some out of ignorance and fear. Oh, and he'd seen death in general. Millions-no, _billions_ of people had died in his 400 years, and millions at his personal hand. Most of them would modernly classify as justifiable homicides, but some had been just for fun. Josef was a predator, a natural state he exulted in.

And now, at the peak of his game, he was undone by one death, cut down to his knees, his mind shutting down. His Sara, his link to something indefinable but infinitely precious was gone. The twist of the knife was that she'd been gone a long time. How many times had he poured his heart and soul out to nothing more than a fantastically well-preserved corpse?

Beth had known. Rage colored his despair, aimed with full force at the blonde mortal. She'd _known_ his Sara was dead and her solution was to fuck him? Well, pity had never been so enthusiastic, he thought contemptuously. What, had she thought her body would serve as some sort of consolation prize? Well, blondie needed a reality check, because it wasn't even cold comfort.

It took a minute, but logic prevailed to a small extent. More likely it had been a distraction tactic, he surmised grimly. Beth hadn't wanted him to know the truth, not yet. His rage ebbed, falling away into nothingness. Maybe she'd been waiting for…what, the right moment? For all her bravado and ambition, Turner could be one hell of a soft touch. The sooner she'd told him, the sooner she could have gotten on with her own life, but she'd kept her life on hold to spare him a while longer. It might have been touching, but the news had killed him, and had left only an empty shell. He had no room to moved by anything.

Pity Beth's little distraction hadn't worked. He'd suspected she was withholding something, suspected something fishy about the evening before. So he'd tracked down Ms. Eastwood, correctly suspecting the root of the mystery lay there.

It hadn't take much persuasion to get Vanessa to spill her guts, only a few well-placed compliments and allusions to the favors he could do for her, and her lips had been looser than Coraline's morals. She'd told him everything that Beth should have told him herself. The silver had poisoned Sara beyond repair a long time ago, and there was no hope. The stupid broad had wanted to tell him more, but he didn't need to hear another word. It was finished.

His cell phone rang, and he briefly contemplated smashing the gadget. Coraline's number flashed on the screen, and maybe out of desperation for a distraction, he answered it. "What?" Even to his own ears, his tone was dead, dull.

Coraline didn't comment on it. "Josef, I need your help."

"Then you'd be fresh out of luck," he denied instantly. "I'm not helping anyone…"

"Josef, listen to me," Coraline insisted, sounding edgy. It penetrated his brain, but failed to evoke even the smallest response. "I'm up to my ass in trouble this time, and Mick won't abandon ship."

"That would be his problem, or yours, however you want to look at it." He was dead, didn't they understand? In a few days, it would be official.

"He's your best friend," Coraline hissed in acute frustration and confusion. "He needs you."

"Well, he's a big boy now, and he's got you, my dear vixen. Why don't you put that devious little brain to good use and leave me alone?"

"Okay, who are you and what the hell have you done with Josef Kostan?" Coraline demanded heatedly. "Look, self-preservation is one thing, but-"

"Save it, okay, Coraline?" He closed his eyes, wishing for a silver bullet. "The game's over, I've got nothing left."

"What in hell's name are you blathering about? This is life and death, Josef!"

"Oh, Coraline, my old friend. Doesn't it always come down to life and death?" Sadness without pretense stained his words.

There a long, nervous silence. "Something's messed with your head," she concluded softly. He had to wonder if the concern he heard was out of friendship, or if she was worried she was losing a valuable ally. Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered. "Look, whatever it is-"

"As poignant as your distress is, and completely altruistic, I'm sure," he added, sarcasm drowning his words, "it's pointless. If you don't want Mick involved in your bullshit, cut your losses and split town. That's about all I can do for you."

"What's going on?" she demanded nervously.

"Take care of Mick. Lord knows the child needs babysitting. You aren't what I'd call a stabilizing influence, but I don't have anyone else to ask, except Beth, and she's just a mortal. Take care of her, too. Sure, she stabbed you, but you kidnapped her, so that makes it even all around. No, on second thought, have Mick take care of her." He paused, but all he heard was shocked sputtering on the other line. "Well, work it out one way or other."

"Josef…" Coraline nervousness was giving way to real anxiety.

"If you ever cared, just leave me the fuck alone." He disconnected the call, Coraline already a million miles from his mind.

**LA**

"Damn," Coraline snarled, snapping her cell phone closed. She'd tried to call Josef back three times, but he wouldn't pick up. She'd never heard him sound like that before, it was downright creepy, and this from her of all beings. Her stomach tightened to the point of physical pain. She'd been sure she could count on Josef, at least for some financial backing, but all signs pointed to him cracking up.

Even worse, he'd sounded suicidal, talking about 'taking care' of Mick and Beth. She'd seen Josef depressed, but never despondent to that degree. Coraline had the frantic urge to hunt him down, and knock some sense into him. She didn't have time, though.

"Is something wrong, Bella?" A male voice asked from the shadows, the voice of the 'tail' that Lance had put on her. He was standing, quivering from lust and an overwhelming desire to please. He reminded her of a young dog, caught in limbo between puppy and adult. Would Lance never learn? There were very few males she couldn't win over, and in this case, she hadn't even had to offer her body. All it had taken was batting her eyelashes, and promising him future romps.

"Not at all, Matthew," she responded smoothly, her lips twisting in a sultry smile. "You're here, aren't you?"

His chest literally puffed out. "You know I'd do anything for you, don't you, my goddess?"

Coraline almost growled, and demanded he retract his words. Mick had called her a goddess once, and since then, the word had remained sacred to her. But she reeled in her temper, knowing she had to use this gullible minion for all he was worth. When he wasn't useful, he was fair game. The thought cheered her up a little.

"Yes, of course," she cooed. "You've done so much already. Now, do you have your story down to recite to Lance?"

"Yes, yes…"

"Say it," she demanded. She wasn't going to risk blowing her cover because this joke had a hard-on. She softened her tone, batted her eyelashes yet again for affect. "We wouldn't want anything to go wrong, would we, darling?"

"Never!" he declared passionately. "I'll tell him that you went to the Sunset club, had a snack, a Caucasian male in his early 20's, had a few alcoholic drinks, and went home."

"Very good." She gave him a beaming smile that was about as sincere as Marilyn Munro's blonde hair color. "When this is over, I shall properly reward you."

"Coraline…let me kiss you," he begged, all but drooling. Charming.

_A kiss is one of the last things I'd ever give you, _she thought disdainfully, but the emotion never surfaced when she answered him. "Oh, dear boy, I would…but Lance would smell it, wouldn't he?"

"I could shower," he volunteered eagerly.

"Well, he'd be able to smell that, and wonder why." She waited for comprehension to follow that bit of obvious logic, disappointment and resignation not far behind. "All in good time, darling, all in good time. After all, vampires aren't exactly pressed for time, right?"

"True…" he sounded like a whining toddler to her ears.

"That's a dear. Now, I've got to be running along." Her nerves, already raw, frayed to a worse degree, her heart squeezing. Letting Lance talk to Mick, letting Mick play this dangerous game of intrigue was a calculated risk. What if her bastard brother decided Mick's mouth was too smart for him to live?

"Coraline…" Mathew wheedled. "When can we be together?"

_When hell freezes over. _"When it's over," she answered vaguely. Then she was gone, making her way back to the apartment she'd come to think of as partly hers. She exited the elevator, came to a dead stop. She could smell Mick, hear his slowly beating heart. There was no pain; there was none of his spilled blood to assault her soul. Her knees sagged with overwhelming relief, her vampire endurance abandoning her momentarily. She sank to the ground, trying to get herself in check.

She heard the door open, her senses alert as Mick made his way over. "Coraline?" He slipped a hand under her knees, supported her back with the other, lifting her effortlessly. Her throat tightened, her body snuggling closer without her mind's permission.

"You're not hurt," they said in unison.

Mick chuckled. "Okay, we've got that straight." He carried her into the apartment, lightly footing the door closed behind them. "If you were worried I'd screw up-"

"With Lance, you don't have to. I've seen him walk up to virtual strangers and tear their throats out…for fun, I guess." Coraline was too old to be squeamish, not to mention too jaded and in touch with her own nature to be horrified, but she knew Lance was a few cards short of a full deck. "He doesn't need a reason, Mick. And if you followed the plan, you gave him a reason."

Mick sat her down, examining her patiently. "Coraline, if I sucked up, he'd be on his guard. Sure, he's probably plotting my demise as we speak, but he'll keep me around. He bought it, bought that I was up for grabs. That was the point. As long as he buys it, we have a shot."

She raised an eyebrow. "Why did you think I was hurt?"

"Automatic reaction." Mick looked a little sheepish as he flopped down beside her. "I saw you curled up on the ground, and for a second…I don't know." She sensed that he wasn't going to make any more of an admission that he already had. "I was just relieved you were all right."

"I was," she assured him. "I was just relieved you were in one piece."

"Well, I think we've got that covered."

"I called Josef, like we talked about," she informed him miserably. "He isn't on board."

Mick's brows drew together in genuine confusion. "I thought you said he'd be all over this."

"Maybe I was getting ahead of myself," Coraline admitted. "I mean, he _has_ gotten soft over the years, doesn't like to get his hands dirty, at least not personally. But I thought he'd make an exception, you know, embrace the chance to get the old juices flowing. If we can take down Lance, there's a lot of power up for grabs. Not to mention, usually he'll come through for friends, even if he likes to talk big."

Mick rubbed her shoulders, sensing how this development had deepened her misgivings. "Okay, so it's a set-back. A substantial one, I'll give you that, but it isn't going to make or break the whole thing. We did have a Plan B, remember?"

"I didn't actually plan on using it," she countered, but it was hard to stay tense with those marvelous hands kneading her shoulders. As good as it felt, she'd rather have his hands other places… _Down girl, _she admonished herself. She needed to focus. "Tell me everything," she commanded. She wanted to remind him she wasn't fragile, that she was still leading the dance.

She almost moaned in disapproval when Mick's hands dropped away. "He just strolled on in, like he owned the place. I played it casual, which pissed him off. I guess I was supposed to fall at his feet, and worship the marvel that was him." Mick rolled his eyes, smirking.

"Sounds about right." She tugged him closer, needing the reassurance of his proximity. However, this time she resisted the urge to cuddle with him. She needed to get it on track.

"Big shot wanted to know where you were, I acted like I didn't have a clue. I thought he might go tearing through the place, looking for clues, like we'd be stupid enough to leave a smoking gun in the nest." He scoffed. "Anyway, then he offered up you were his sister, and I acted like it was news to me. I'm not sure he swallowed that, but Lance didn't press the point. When he couldn't shake me up there, he went for the trust issue between us, seeing how tight we were."

"I never knew my brother was so predictable." She didn't offer up the truth that she herself wondered if Mick really did trust her. She'd done her best to rebuild the trust that she'd broken on their wedding night, but was it enough? Would it ever be enough? One way or the other, Mick cared enough to throw his hat into her ring, play a dangerous game by her side. That meant more than everything to her. "Did the rest go down like we were planning?"

Mick's hand wandered to her hair, the touch absent, but welcomed. A gleam entered his eyes that she really liked. "It just fell into place. I thought it'd take a few meetings to get him to drop the bait, but I guess he was in a hurry."

"Sure. Dominic's probably breathing down his neck."

"Anyway, he offered me the usual package…women, money, and power. He must take me for ten shades of idiot if he thought I'd just take his word for it. He doesn't exactly have 'trustworthy' coming off him in waves." Coraline snickered, shaking her head. "As far as he's concerned, I'll be a good little stooge and rat out every little thing you do."

"Good," Coraline declared with satisfaction. At least some of their plans were going smoothly. She aimed him an admiring glance. "I've got to say, Mick, I didn't know you had it in you. Who knew Machiavellian could be so hot?" _Mission accomplished_, she thought gleefully, forgetting about Lance and all the headaches that came with him, even for a little while.

"Speaking of hot," Mick growled, the sound snapping through Coraline, her body physically reacting. Then she really had something to react about, because she was hauled up against his chest, and he was eating her mouth. She returned the favor, pressing her body even closer. In seconds, her legs were around his waist, rubbing herself against the growing bulge pressing against his fly. He grinded back, and if their clothes could have melted away, he would have been inside her, filling her the way no one else could.

Before she even registered his mouth had left hers, he was sinking his fangs into her neck, wrenching a low whimper from her lips. The pleasure and sweet stinging had her feeling high, making heroin's affect look like a little pick-me-up. She returned the favor, euphoria enveloping her as her incisors broke through his skin, the familiar taste of his blood wetting her tongue, sliding down her throat.

How long they played the erotic game of give-and-take, she didn't know. But at some point, he tore his slid his fangs around from her flesh, the wound almost instantly healing. His unnecessary breath was cool and ragged in her ear. "I want you, and I don't plan on waiting anymore."

**Lance's Fortress**

This was a nightmare, Beth reasoned numbly. Just a waking one. She couldn't lose it, and start freaking out, for a variety of reasons, actually. First of all, vampires got off on fear; it usually drove them to more aggressive emotions. Second of all, she had to keep a cool head. If she fell apart, she was screwed for sure. Third of all, she wasn't going to give the asshole the satisfaction.

"You want to make me into a vampire?" she asked evenly, wondering what his game was. Why her? Why now?

"No, I want to take you to Hollywood, and turn you into the next Lana Turner," he shot back flippantly, shaking his head in disappointment. "When I say immortal of course I mean vampire!"

"Lucky me," she muttered sarcastically, forcing rising panic down. Sure, in the abstract sense, she'd batted the idea of becoming a vampire around in her head, but in this imaginary scenario, either Mick or Josef were her sire, not psycho boy. Also, it was a few years down the line, in her 30's, and that was a big maybe.

"Actually, you are." Lance advanced on her, and against her will, she recoiled, her back grinding into the wall behind her. "But it's more than just luck. It's your destiny. Your birthright."

_What have you been smoking, pal? _Beth thought bitingly, but didn't quite have the brass to say it out loud with him practically in her face. "I guess mom forgot to give me _that_ talk," she retorted instead.

A laugh of what could have been genuine amusement spilled out of Lance, the vibrations drifting over Beth's face. She winced. He didn't have bad breath, actually, but his aura, the darkness of it, was a tangible thing. Beth had always scoffed at the idea that evil could have an actual presence, but she couldn't deny that evil was what she feeling. Cold, suffocating, all-encompassing evil was in the room, and she was stuck in the middle of it.

"Allow me to introduce myself." He made a bow that reminded Beth of some period pieces she'd watched with her mother growing up. "I'm Lance de Guise."

"Charmed." She rolled her eyes, like she didn't have a care in the world. Internally, she wondered just how much she should piss this guy off. Sometimes it was a fine balance between being gutsy and idiotic.

"Don't you ever wonder why Coraline kidnapped you?"

Sucking in her breath in surprise, Beth stared, creeped out by his jet black eye. It was unnatural in the extreme. At first, it looked like he was missing an eye, but closer examination corrected her initial assumption. Was it rotted in some weird supernatural sense? Had he been messing with black mojo? She forced herself not to analyze it too closely. The less she knew about this freak, the better.

"How do you know about that?" she asked wearily. There was always the chance that him and Coraline were confidants, but she could have sworn she heard a little loathing in his tone when he said Coraline's name.

"Because she's my sister." _And I thought Coraline was bad, _was the first thought that popped into Beth's head after absorbing the astonishing fact. She wondered how the rest of the family was.

"Figures," she spat. But in all honesty, she would have welcomed anyone's help about now, even Coraline's. "Well, you know what they say, it's a small world and all that jazz."

He leveled her with a warning glare. "If you start singing that obnoxious so-called song, I will torture you for an hour on principle. In any event, Coraline is one of seven siblings from a powerful bloodline. Our grandsire, Dominic is the most powerful vampire in the world."

"Good for you."

"Sarcasm, my dear? Is that the best you can muster?" Lance pressed a mocking kiss to her brow. Beth tried to jerk away from his freezer lips, but he held her ruthlessly still. True, Mick and Josef were slightly, but not anywhere near to this extent and they weren't repulsive! Other side of the spectrum from repulsive, actually. For a sickening moment, she wondered if he'd start pawing her, but with a low snicker, he backed off. And best of all, he started to pace the length of the room, giving her some much desired space.

"So, two kidnappers in the family," Beth announced. "Is that a genetic trait, or did you two compare notes?"

"As I do now, Coraline had some very defined reasons for kidnapping you, as you so crassly put it. I prefer to think of it as a family reunion." Beth blinked at him, unable to make sense out of that. 'Family reunion?' Then, her stomach lurching, she remembered that her and Coraline shared a blood type. Could that mean…?

No, no, no! Her mind put a stone wall up against the disturbing idea, trying to shield her. Her mind was good at that. She barely registered Lance grinning at her, obviously having guessed what she was going through. He was just baiting her, just playing with her head. Maybe he knew about the similar blood type, maybe…maybe…

"I don't believe you," she told him in a very low voice.

"Coraline is your ancestor, your direct ancestor. Towards the end of her rather illustrious career, she gave birth to a bastard daughter-"

"Let me get this straight." Beth knew she had serious problems. She was at the mercy of a powerful vampire who seemed very comfortable with his dark side, so she shouldn't be worried about Coraline's family tree. Still, the reporter in her just wouldn't shut up. Besides, she wanted to stall for time, delay the inevitable part where she fit into this loony bunch. "Coraline was a mother?"

Lance didn't seem perturbed by Beth's interruption. Actually, he seemed on cloud nine that she was taking an interest. She cursed her own curiosity. "She gave the growing babe a place to develop, and she eventually squeezed the creature from her womb, if that's what you mean by 'mother.' After the child was born, she wasted no time ridding herself of any responsibility in the matter."

"Why did she go through with the pregnancy? Why not just-"

"Induce a miscarriage or something?" Lance shrugged. "With my sister, one can never be sure of the why, only of the facts. "In any case, she gave birth to a girl. She gave it to an English earl who had not been able to reproduce a legitimate offspring, and the rest is history. Not long after this charming misadventure, my sister retired from the world's oldest profession, and soon joined the ranks of the undead. Jacqueline went on to breed, and after several generations, you are the last link to an ancient bloodline. You come from vampires."

"Let's say, for like, a microsecond I'm buying this crap, which I'm not, but let's pretend. Even if Coraline was my ancestor's mother, she wasn't a vampire then." Beth aimed him a defiant look.

"Ah, she wasn't, but her father was a vampire, a very powerful one." Lance seemed to relish the shock and confusion in Beth's expression.

"That's impossible. Male vampires are shooting blanks!" Beth all but shouted. She vaguely remembered Josef complaining about volume, and hoped she split Lance's eardrums. If she did, he gave no indication. Either Josef was a big baby, or Lance just had a freakish tolerance for pain. Or maybe he was just a good actor.

"Very astute, Miss Turner. But there's a loophole to every rule, even vampirism, the very loophole my sister used when she was playing her Morgan Vincent role." A low beeping went off, the alarm on his watch, presumably. He switched it off. "Damn. We'll have to finish this later. No matter, why, we have _forever_. For now, you look absolutely worn out. Let me help you sleep."

"Gee, with these plush accommodations, I'm sure I'll snooze like a baby," Beth snapped.

"Only temporary, I promise. Wouldn't want my girl's wrists cramping, now would we?" She gagged at the notion of being 'his girl' but he purposefully ignored the sound. "When you wake up, you'll be in your new room. Look into my eyes, darling."

"Get real." Beth scoffed. "I've looked at your eyes, plenty, and nothing…" That was the point her tongue seemed to get heavy, and she lost her train of thought. His gaze caught and pinned her, and she suddenly felt lethargic. There was something in his eyes, something she couldn't identify, but something that she could drown in. Darkness swept over her, and she remembered no more.


	19. Encounters

I want to especially thank Quirky Dell, Nightcap, NeteleJala, and Moonjat for your reviews. Everyone else, thanks for chipping in to give me feedback.

**LA**

Coraline felt her inner muscles clench at Mick's whispered announcement that he wanted her, and didn't plan on waiting. The uncharacteristic reservations that had been hounding her since he lost his memory fell away, her craving for his body the only thing that could matter right now. His blood was in her mouth, coating her throat, and the world could go to hell. 

Withdrawing her own fangs, Coraline cleaned his neck of the thin stream of blood, a wanton light dancing in her eyes. "What the vamp wants, the vamp gets." She nipped his jugular, feeling an answering shudder wrack his body. His hands found their way under her silk blouse, hands teasing up her spine, bringing the nerves on the smooth skin there into new life. She quickly unbuttoned his shirt, eager to see those delicious muscles, press her lips to the familiar taste and texture of his skin.

His shirt fell away at the same second her bra did, Mick's agile fingers unhooking it one-handed, the way she'd encouraged him to learn a long time ago. Her tongue tantalized the skin at his throat as it skillfully glided along the surface, her fangs aching at the smell of his slowly circulating blood. He repaid the enticing gesture by cupping her slight breasts, the touch sending electric shocks throughout her whole body. Her nipples stabbed his palm, begging to be touched. 

Firmly guiding her onto her back, Mick slid down her body until he could engulf her left breast in his cool mouth, his efforts rewarded by a throaty moan on Coraline's part. He slipped the slacks down her hips, and she wriggled out of them, mindlessly kicking them off. The material was an abrasion on her skin. Her blue lace panties were scant at best, and Mick didn't even bother removing them. With a single gesture that thrilled her to the core, he ripped them from her quivering body, the ruined material discarded and forgotten. 

Not wasting any time, Coraline deftly removed his belt, unfastening his jeans and unbuttoning them. They pulled apart just long enough to get Mick out of the obnoxious barrier, and she took a couple seconds to admire him in the pair of thin cotton boxers. Her limited patience spent, she yanked them off his hips, watching hungrily as he kicked free of them. Mick gathered her close, and she savored the feel of the skin on skin contact.

As she had so often in the past, Coraline boldly put his hand between her legs, wordlessly commanding him to pleasure her where she needed it the most. He complied instantly, stroking her soaking folds expertly. "More," she gritted out, rubbing herself against his talented hand enthusiastically. To drive her further out of her mind, he pierced just below the nipple with his fangs, driving her straight to the edge of an intense orgasm. Chuckling roughly, Mick eased his touch, denying her that wild ride she craved. She arched violently, seeking what was just out of her reach. 

Her fingers slipped down his taunt abdomen, encircling him with her fingers. Mick's breathing turned harsh instantly, and through her sexual haze, she felt a twinge of feminine pride. She stroked along his rock-hard length, feeling him begin to thrust into her practiced touch. They fell into an instinctive rhythm together. There was only the unsteady plunge and parry of his fingers inside her wet sheath, the merciless manipulation of her clit. There was only the eager pumping of his cock by her small hand, the feel of her ruthless fingers massaging his balls. They were equally lost, equally at each other's mercy. It was a hell of a rush.

It was as though they'd only made love yesterday, they were instantly in synch with each other's needs. Both knew just how much pressure to exert, and just how to apply it. They traded hungry kisses, and Coraline felt almost drunk off the taste of him. How had she survived all these years without him, without this?

The simultaneous orgasms crept up on them, their bodies stiffening as the pressure churning inside both of their bodies built. His fangs penetrated the soft skin of her neck, and she returned the gesture with abandon, tasting each individual drop, the way she always did. She dimly heard his snarl of satisfaction as bliss exploded inside her, as he emptied his sterile seed into her hand.

It didn't take long for either of them to recover, their releases whetting their appetite more than diminishing the fervor brewing between them. Coraline's smile of anticipation was sharp, and she saw the answering predatory intent in his expression. Their hands were quickly cleaned of excess passion, and were all over each other, both consumed by the need to reclaim memorized territory. 

The tip of his length dragged across her clit, wrenching a low cry from her as she flung her head back, eagerly absorbing every sensation. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and urged him closer. She'd been so empty without him; she needed him back where he belonged. Then he was filling her with one smooth plunge. "Ahhh!" she sighed harshly, her heightened senses keener than ever, and her body writhed beneath him. 

"Coraline, Coraline," she heard him growl, taking her in hard, measured strokes. She met each one, her colorless eyes glassy, her fangs gleaming in the dim light. It felt incredible in a way no one else had ever been able to give her. Over the course of their 22 year separation, she'd indulged her ravenous sexual appetite, but those clowns had been substitutes, living vibrators for her whims. Now that Mick was inside her again, claiming her, she realized just how deprived she'd been. 

Dragging him down for a kiss, her tongue mating with his, Coraline greedily increased their pace. She couldn't get enough of him, the slow tempo driving her crazy. She needed him harder, faster. She unwrapped her legs, flipped them over, locked her legs on either side of his, never breaking the connection of their bodies. He didn't fight her show of dominance; instead, he seemed to revel in it, slamming up into her, able to go deeper with the new position.

Atop of him, her slender hips slamming down, Coraline placed his hands over her neglected breasts, instinctively clamping down on him when he obeyed her cue. Her hands streaked down his chest, addicted to the feel of him, desperate for more. He pinched her left nipple roughly, just the way she liked, and she sank her nails into his flesh, the scent of blood spurring them both on. It also brought out Mick's predator, shoved his submission aside.

He flipped them back over, pinning her body under his, their chests touching, rubbing together in their now frenzied coupling. He was slamming her back into the sofa now, and she matched him every step of the way. Again, their fangs buried into the other's neck, both riding that high, still moving together to wring every ounce of pleasure out of the earth shattering experience. Eventually, the motions of their hips ebbed into stillness; the only sound their harsh panting. 

Affectionately stroking his hair, Coraline smiled, floating in the afterglow. "I think it's safe to say you haven't lost your touch."

"Good to hear." He nuzzled her throat, touching his tongue playfully to the skin. "Still, you know what they say. Practice makes perfect."

She arched an eyebrow. "That an invitation?"

"Definitely." He stole a kiss that had her body stirring all over again, and she squeezed her inner muscles on him, feeling him harden and lengthen inside her again. She heard him laugh, the sound rough and happy. She thought it was the best sound in the world. 

Later, much later, as Coraline dozed in his arms, Mick carried her to the freezer for a much needed rejuvenation period. If she'd been awake, she would have seen the cold, contemplative gleam in his eyes, and it definitely would have worried her. 

**Lance's Fortress**

"Feeling refreshed, my dear?" Lance drawled, feeling his cock harden as he took in the sight of the blonde beauty sprawled out on the four-poster bed. He resisted the urge to fuck her. He wasn't the biggest fan of rape, as a rule, anyway, especially with this glorious creature. It would be so much fun to break her, have her willingly take his dick inside her tight little pussy. Besides, he wanted to have the stench of the other vampire removed when he had her.

"Peachy keen," she spat, and the fire inside those sapphire eyes made his physical reaction stronger. "Now, if you let me go, it'll be a red letter day all the way around."

"Creative," he conceded approvingly. He sat down, regarding her. He'd dressed her in a tiny burgundy number without any bra or underwear. The velvet clung just the way he'd intended. She really was a stunner. A tad ordinary, perhaps. Blue eyes, blonde hair, fair skin weren't exactly an original combination, but it certainly was an efficient one, especially in this woman. 

"Where'd you buy this?" Beth resentfully gestured to her dress. "Sluts-are-us?"

"It suits you," he told her snidely. Her face flushed with anger, her eyes narrowing at him. "Josef Kostan certainly would have approved, don't you think?"

"Hardly. Josef may be a lot of less than flattering things, but he's a vampire of impeccable taste." She sat up, pushing her silky hair from her face. Did he actually see some longing for that upstart in her eyes? _Nonsense, from all accounts it was a purely physical relationship,_ he told himself. She couldn't possibly feel anything for that fool.

"Josef Kostan has an eye for beauty," Lance agreed. "But obviously he lacks in the skills to protect what catches his eye. Take for example, how easy it was to acquire you. The employee that fetched you told me that he was able to pluck you right off the streets of New York."

"That's not exactly how it went," Beth countered, her fists clenching. "He took me out of the empty ladies room, knocked me out, and from what I understand, dragged me out via a window."

"Details," Lance said with an airy gesture. 

"Pig."

"You'll get used to me," he promised her, laughing at the face she made. "Fortunately for you, I'm a vampire of limitless patience."

"What did you do to me?" his captive demanded. "Earlier, I mean."

"I used my energy to induce you to an unconscious state," he explained glibly, knowing she was carefully storing the information away in her mind. "It worked rather well, wouldn't you agree? Not many vampires have that kind of power. I doubt even your Josef Kostan could pull it off. Well, everyone knows he's more interested in bimbo's and money than applying his strength. It's a wonder you gave him the time of day."

She ignored the observation. "Nice room. It's not exactly a typical prison cell, I'll give you that."

"Luxurious, isn't it? Only the best for my sister's descendant and my future mistress." 

"Dream on," she sneered. "What should I be calling you, anyway? Uncle Lance?"

"I doubt at this point there's much in the way of genetic linking. However, from what I hear, you do bear a strong resemblance to Jacqueline. That's probably why my sister chose you in specific when she had the urge to kidnap a child." Now it was his turn to make a face. "Why you'd want to live with a creature that has the potential to wet the bed is something _I'll_ never understand."

"So that's why I was the lucky winner," Beth muttered, then shrugged off the discovery. "What happened to Jacqueline, anyway?"

"She lived. She bred. She died. Isn't that what humans do?" He knew his attitude invoked her rage, and he loved it. Her anger was a real turn-on. "I doubt it broke Coraline's heart. Still, Jacqueline was her creation, and obviously that meant something. You're living proof of that."

Beth crossed her arms over her chest. "She nearly killed me. Her daughter lucked out that she pawned her off."

"Coraline wasn't out to kill you." Honestly, did she think Coraline would go through the trouble for a potential meal? "She was out to raise you, turn you into the perfect vampiress. She might have succeeded if Sir Lancelot hadn't ridden in and burned her to a crisp."

"Well, that makes it all better, doesn't it?" Beth countered sarcastically. "And you've kidnapped me out of family loyalty?"

"Oh, hardly." Lance dismissed the sentimental notion without a second thought. "I kidnapped you for a few reasons, none of them to do with family loyalty, as you so quaintly call it. One, I want you, and I take what I want. Two, you come from a powerful vampire line…distantly, I'll admit, but validly nonetheless. You have the markings for a great vampire. It became clear neither Kostan nor St. John were going to do anything about that. Third…I know Coraline will come for you. It's the perfect lure."

"Don't be so sure." Beth gave him a curiously amused look. "I stabbed the bitch. She won't be doing me any favors for a good long time."

"Did you, now? Well, if my sister was harboring a grudge, you'd be dead. Besides, she'd never hurt you. You remind her too much of her long buried daughter for that. I'm having serious doubts it's a maternal urge, it's just principle. She probably perceives you as her property, and oh, dear. Big brother has his paws all over it. Call it sibling rivalry."

"I won't be turned," Beth all but snarled.

"You have no choice, my beauty. Just ask your P.I. buddy some time. You'll probably see him soon, anyway. He is, after all, an employee of mine now."

"Mick wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire!" Beth all but screamed. Good grief, didn't she understand about volume? 

"First of all, vampires don't piss, and second of all, don't be so sure. We had an interesting chat last night, and he's fully in league with my plans. You see, he believes I'll restore him to his original humanity if he cooperates with me."

He saw glimmers of doubt enter those lovely eyes. She must have known how desperately the idiot wanted to return to the mortal coil, knew that it would be his one area of great weakness. "I still don't believe it," she maintained stubbornly. Oh, yes. This one would be a delight to break. 

"He's probably fucking my sister as we speak," he announced casually.

"Mick wouldn't touch her with a ten foot pole," she hissed. "Besides, Coraline's MIA. She's probably in Europe or something. Or wherever it is that ex-hooker-kid stealing-vipers go."

"She's in LA right this moment." Lance took delight in the shock emitting off his stubborn 'guest.' "The best way to earn her trust is to rut with her. When I'm done with her, I'll reward him handsomely. I'll put an end to his misery once and for all."

"Why? Why not give him what he wants?" Beth brought her knees up protectively, her bravado vanishing. 

"Because when I have the chance to get what I want with nothing in return, I take advantage of it." He took a look at the look of fear on her face and left her with that pleasant thought to keep her company. 


	20. Changes

"Who's Jacqueline

If things go the way I plan, this story has 3-5 chapters left after this one, and I'm wrapping this story up. I've had fun, but I'm definitely ready to move on to the next project. Thanks so much for the reviews. When I first started this, I expected to get one or two per chapter, because of the fairly unpopular pairing. (Although it's so nice to hear when I do get a fellow Mick/Coraline shipper.) I guess I owe JoBe for having as much of a review following as I did.

**LA**

"Who's Jacqueline?" Mick asked one late morning, as they emerged from the freezer, ice gleaming on their skin. They'd permanently discontinued the freezer/bathtub arrangement, and happily shared the snug confines of Mick's accommodations each morning.

She stiffened in surprise, eyes widening as she glanced over her shoulder. "Where'd you hear that name?"

"You were saying it in your sleep," Mick answered mildly, barely veiled curiosity in his eyes as he reached for his robe. Well, P.I.'s were snoops by nature, she reasoned. "Is this an off-limits topic?"

"Not at all." Really, it wasn't a painful subject, just not a very often visited one. She'd made the right choice, and she'd always been at peace with it. Kidnapping Beth had been madness, since she had zero in the maternal instinct department. Well, she'd never worn desperation or sentimentality well. "She was my daughter."

"Whoa, whoa, back it up." An incredulous light had invaded Mick's eyes. Clearly, not the answer he was expecting. "You had a daughter?"

"Thus established," she retorted blithely. "What, I don't seem the motherly type?"

"Is that a trick question?"

"Would I ask one of those?" she asked, coyly fluttering her eyelashes. That earned a hearty laugh out of Mick.

"Definitely. I like it. Keeps a guy on his toes," he announced, tugging on her hair affectionately.

"A woman's prerogative, but in this case, no tricks." She slipped into her own robe, royal purple, flowing silk. To the untrained eye it was luxuriously modest, but the expensive fabric clung in all the right places.

"No, you don't seem like the motherly type," Mick admitted, but she didn't hear any reproach in his voice. It was just an honest, casual observation. "Obviously you had a daughter anyway." She could tell he was dying to hear the full story.

"I did. She's dead." There was no grief in Coraline's voice. In her opinion, it wasn't called for. Jacqueline had enjoyed a good life, filled with love and music, wealth and travel. Coraline had chosen well in her adoptive parents, they'd given her everything that money could buy, and lavished her with doting attention. Jacqueline's husband had continued the practice of adoring her, and she'd been one of the most fashionable, bejeweled women in London. Vampirism wasn't a possibility for Jacqueline, who was a child of the sunlight in every way. Hence, death was inevitable. She'd died at the ripe age of 72, and Coraline knew her only natural child had died content.

Initially, of course, she'd been saddened. Though she'd never approached Jacqueline, she'd watched from the shadows her entire life, watching for any danger her mortals protectors couldn't handle. She'd watched her grow from an energetic, but well-schooled child to a lovely young woman, to a vivacious wife, to a proud mother, and eventually, into an always graceful, always dignified elderly matriarch. The loss was indirect, but deeply felt. Yet as the decades passed, time blurred the emotion, and her memories of Jacqueline grew dim. Fondly held, but dim. It wasn't until she'd seen Beth out one evening with her mother as a little girl of 3 that the memories had been brought to new life. Over that next year, they'd grown stronger and stronger.

"I'm sorry," Mick told her sincerely.

"I was too," Coraline said honestly with an accepting smile. "But that was a very long time ago, and mortals grow old and die, Mick. It's the way it goes. Jacqueline wouldn't have traded her life for immortality, and that was her own choice. I didn't raise her, you know." She didn't know why she added that. "I was living as a courtesan when I got pregnant."

"I thought your folks were linked to the royal family," Mick pointed out.

"They were. I didn't know at any of that for most of my life. Besides, it was an illegitimate branch, and you'd be surprised how often unofficial royalty becomes tangled in all sorts of naughty shenanigans." She winked as they left the grey room, and she could see Mick was taking her revelation of profession in stride. Well, he had in the 1950's, at the height of his conservative phase. Why wouldn't he now? "Towards the end of my career, I found out I was pregnant."

"Why didn't you keep her? Couldn't you have afforded it?"

"I could have, financially," she admitted, choosing her words carefully. "Honestly? Children weren't compatible with my lifestyle, and I had no experience with anything requiring maternal affection. No, a screaming baby hadn't been in my plans. But, especially then, preventive measures weren't exactly foolproof. I could've gotten rid of the pregnancy early, but thought the little creature deserved some kind of chance. So, I settled for a compromise that could benefit all parties involved."

"A good idea all the way around," Mick commented neutrally. If he was put off by her casual attitude, he didn't show it. Then again, he didn't seem to want to dwell on the topic either, since he changed it pretty quick. "Is Cynthia on board for tomorrow night?"

Apprehension danced up Coraline's spine, her mouth going dry. Tomorrow night, it would all be settled in less than 48 hours. Every instinct inside her was screaming to pack up shop and flee with Mick. They could work towards a cure in secrecy, appeal to her grandsire directly when an alternative version was found. But Mick was right. She'd let her brother push her around too long, and if she didn't stop him, there'd be a night where she'd never be able to. Besides, if she bested Lance, absorbed some of his power, she'd be a step higher on the food chain.

"Yes," she answered absently. "She'd follow me into hell, I told you that."

"I just want everything out on the table," Mick retorted. "Has she got the plan down?"

"Mick, my love, she hasn't survived this long, or gotten her Ph.d Degree in Biochemistry by having a slippery brain. Besides, the plan isn't exactly the stuff that would stump Plato. Lance believes you're luring me to a remote location tomorrow night…a mile or so from his fortress. Just as he's about to unleash his ambush, we retaliate, neither empty-handed nor hopelessly outnumbered."

"You managed to get your brother Alexander and Duncan to join us?"

"But of course," she replied carelessly. Winning them to her side hadn't required much effort. Alexander had always had an itch in his fly for Cynthia, who had taken the trouble of seducing the fool for Coraline's greater good. Coraline reminded herself to give her old friend a medal for that alone; Alexander was no prize in the looks department. As for Duncan, Lance had always given him the crap jobs, stepping on him whenever the opportunity arose, which it did, and often. He'd just been a mutineer waiting to happen.

"Trust me, Lance has no idea. He thinks he's got your every move under a microscope, and he doesn't have a clue." Mick had been keeping in regular touch with Lance, as originally established, and had assured Coraline daily that her brother was in for a real shock.

She snickered. "He always thinks he's ten jumps ahead of everyone else. "Not only is his 'spy' a double agent, but we've got back-up. And of course, there's always Mathew, the lapdog."

"Ouch." Mick winced playfully, quirking his eyebrows. "And what nickname do you have for me?"

"Sex slave, usually," she announced tartly. Since reestablishing the sexual side of their relationship, they'd been diligent in making up for lost time.

"I can live with that." He tugged her close, devouring her mouth, working his magic on her. Of course, Coraline had never been known as passive, so had to return the favor, working to affect him equally, if not more. These kind of contests were always fun.

Much, much later, they lay tangled and sated on the floor. Mick looked lazily content, and Coraline dreamily smug. Their fingers were linked, and Mick raised their joined hands to press a kiss to her knuckles. "Just when I think it can't get better…"

She laughed, rubbing her cheek against his chest. "Oh, baby, we haven't even scratched the surface yet." Her expression turned serious again. "About the plan-"

"Shh," Mick interrupted gently. "You'll make yourself crazy if you keep this up, and I'd rather you go out of your mind the fun way."

"Mick, this isn't any time to go lax."

"We've been over this plan 50 billion times. There's diligent, and then there's paranoid. Your brother feeds off fear, don't give him that shot. Show him your strength; you've got enough to go around."

Verbally, Coraline agreed, but something nagged at her, and she couldn't help but wonder if something had slipped under the radar. The feeling stuck with her.

**New York**

"What?" Josef snapped at Ryder. "Do I look like I want to see your face? Tell me, do I really?"

"No, sir." Ryder cleared his throat awkwardly. "Miss Turner is missing."

"The girl's a free spirit," Josef replied dismissively. "She hardly has her ass nailed to her bed. You're a vampire, Ryder, try a little patience." Josef sat at his desk, finalizing some last minute arrangements. Everything else Mick and Coraline could settle for him later.

"No, Mr. Kostan. I mean, _yes_, I agree with you, Mr. Kostan, the girl is a free spirit if I've ever seen one," he added hastily when Josef shot him a cool stare. "What I mean is it's more serious than that. The restaurant she was last seen at found her purse, holding her credit cards, I.D., everything but the kitchen sink. It was found in the ladies room. It had been abandoned. I, er, checked the ladies room personally, and I smelled-"

"Urine, I presume," Josef snapped, but Ryder had gotten his attention.

"Well, yeah, but I smelled what happened to Beth, because her fear was still in the air. She was snatched, sir."

"I see." Who had the girl pissed off now? Just listing the possibilities was an endless task. After all, reporters were not universally loved members of society. And as much he wanted to claim Beth wasn't his problem, she was. She was working for him, and was under his protection by vampire law as he'd put his mark on her.

Not to mention, the thought of someone with their grubby little paws all over her had some stirrings of emotion going off inside him, traces of rage, near as he could figure. _Surely not signs of life, _he thought ruefully. Wasn't he finished? He certainly wanted to be, but apparently, blondie needed him to stick around a little bit longer. Anyway, what was the difference? Whatever would serve as his afterlife would still be around in a few days.

"Thank you, Ryder," Josef said formally. "It's good for you to remind me why I pay you the upper scale of a six figure salary." He sighed, long and tiredly. "I suppose her cell phone was in the purse?"

"Yep." Ryder was beginning to relax now that he saw his boss wasn't going to feed him his own heart. "What do you want me to find?"

"Get Beth's cell phone records. I want to know everything about whoever she was talking to recently. I want credit card records, too. Bring back the results. Get my best guys on tracking the abductor's scent. I want answers _yesterday_, Ryder."

"I understand," his lackey was quick to assure him.

"If you understand so fucking well, why are you still standing there, gaping at me like a moron?" Josef barked, recent events, plus this, not wearing too well on his manners.

"No idea, sir," the younger vampire practically yelped, fleeing from the room, no longer relaxed or sure about his safety. Josef just rubbed his forehead, sighing again. _Oh, jolly, _he mentally mused. _The not so dainty damsel was in distress._ He tried to pretend it was just an annoyance, that it wasn't worry that was tightening his throat.

He glanced at the picture of Sara on his desk. Such a pretty face. At least he knew that Sara hadn't been trapped all this time, at least he hadn't turned her own body into a prison. _Lola, you bitch, _he thought with nearly blinding fury. Pity Mick had been the one to give her that silver bath, but hindsight and all that crap.

Still, he shouldn't have trusted Lola as far as he could throw the Empire State building, so in the end, it all came back to him. His fault, his doing. Somehow, Lola got close enough to spike Sara's drink. Why hadn't he smelled it? The question popped into his head for the billionth time. Why? It must have been minute traces, but apparently, it got the job done.

Well, one way or other, he wouldn't be around much longer to wonder about it.

**Lance's Fortress**

Days had passed, and Lance hadn't made another appearance. Hey, Beth wasn't complaining. Just a little of that guy went a long, nauseating way, and she wished like crazy she never had to see his creepy face again. Still, the waiting for him to make his move was killing her. It was just her and four walls. The room was nice, and for an added bonus there was an adjoining bathroom with a toilet and a shower, but Lance had purposefully left nothing for her to do, not even a magazine to read. She was fed regular, although initially she'd been terrified of being drugged. Eventually, hunger won out, and she had to admit, Lance didn't need drugs. He could do that eerie hypnotizing thing, whatever it was.

That was another thing that terrified Beth. What if he used it…ick, to actually make her want him?! She would have liked to believe there was no force on earth that could pull that off, but Lance apparently had some freaky power thing going on, and who knows what he could do? He seemed to want her willing, but how long would his patience hold out? If he waited for her to want him the old-fashioned way, there wasn't an eternity long enough.

In additions to the nightmarish scenarios floating around in her brain, Beth was swamped with painful nostalgia. She missed everyone in her previous life, her parents, co-workers, Mick and Josef. Hell, if Coraline showed up, she probably would have done a happy dance, that's how bad it was. She might have held a major grudge against the vampiress, but at the moment, she was very much the lesser of two evils. Heck, compared to Lance she wasn't bad, and Beth couldn't stand her! She just longed to see a familiar face that didn't belong to the psycho.

Scowling down at herself, Beth decided that she'd never wear red again, especially not this shade! This really was trashy. Beth always considered herself pretty open-minded, and this was the 21st century, but come on! If she was going to be all but naked, she'd rather it be for Josef.

Another stab of longing hit her, tears blurring her vision. Josef. She hadn't realized how much she'd grown to care about him. Okay, the sex was mind-blowing, but obviously their bond went a little bit deeper, at least on her end. She guessed she should be going to pieces about missing Josh right now, but Josef's face kept filling her brain. As hedonistic as he was, Beth realized he was a source of safety she'd grown to rely on. Did he even know she was missing? If he did, would he be able to get here in time?

Lance had mentioned Coraline would come for her, and she desperately hoped so. Still, she doubted it. Why would Coraline risk her neck after everything? Not only had Beth stabbed her, but she was major competition for Mick's affections. _You don't want Mick, but you sure like the idea of him wanting you,_ Josef had told her once, and he was right. Part of her had felt hostile towards Morgan before she even knew she was Coraline for sure. She'd even wanted her to be Coraline so she'd have a logical reason to hate her, because being the sole receiver of Mick's attentions made her feel special.

Did that make her a bad person? Beth wondered. Since she didn't have much else to do, she might as well reflect, get her thoughts in order. Finally, she came to the conclusion it had made her a little immature, but she was basically a good person. If she ever got out of this, she vowed that she'd set Mick straight, and never lead him on again. With any luck, he'd be understanding, and not bail on their friendship. Josef seemed to think he'd be forgiving.

As for Josef, and the whole Sara mess, she didn't know what she'd do if she got out. Probably what she'd been doing, try to find the girl's reincarnation so Josef would have something to hold on to. She fought off the twinge of jealousy. She'd had enough problems with the green-eyed monster, thanks very much.

Lance interrupted her mental processing, and she scowled at him. Geez, he made her skin crawl. "Don't you have a black hole to jump into?" she snapped. She knew she should be more afraid of him, but all he'd done so far was leer at her, and unless she really pushed it, she figured she wasn't in too much physical danger.

She'd figured wrong. Before she could even register a movement, he slapped her across the face. The sting took her breath away, even though she correctly sensed he'd held back. "I've had enough of your insolence," he growled.

Oh, her big mouth really couldn't help itself. "Well, gee, why didn't you just say so?"

He slapped her again, in a different spot thankfully, but this time the impact sent her sprawling across the bed. For a sickening moment, she wondered if he'd pounce on her prone form, but he didn't. All the same, she curled up, forming a protective little ball.

"Enough. Obviously, I've spoiled you too much." _What bug crawled up your ass, _she longed to say, but wisely kept it to herself. Then to her horror, he slunk onto the bed next to her, uncurling her body and pinning her. "And I'm through waiting."

Instead of pawing her, which is what she anticipated next, he sank his fangs into her neck. From idle conversations with Josef, she knew a vampire could numb the pain, even make it pleasurable, but Lance wasn't feeling generous. He let her feel every ounce of pain he could. Past pride, Beth howled in outrage, which just made him rougher. She kicked and fought violently, but it didn't faze him. She could feel herself getting weaker and weaker, until she couldn't even lift her hand.

Then he was shoving his wrist on her mouth, forcing her mouth open with the other. Instinctively, she swallowed the foul tasting fluid coursing down her throat, just wanting it to be over.


	21. Stakes

Wow, I really appreciate the feedback, especially over Lance 'welcoming' Beth to his family. I hope this chapter does justice to everyone's expectations. I'm not completely satisfied with it, but we tend to be our own worst critics. I've reworked it several different ways, and this was the best version, and I figured I'd better roll with it and not drive myself insane. Thanks so much for the reviews, keep 'em coming. We've come so far together; we're almost to the end.

**Near Lance's Fortress**

All vampires understood pain, were bound to it. It was a weapon, stimulation, enemy, art form, all in one complicated package, wrapped up in both the emotional and physical. Coraline, for most of her life, had been an expert at receiving and inflicting it, and she understood the various shades of grey. Now, her mind, body and soul were suffused in pain, taking her to levels of hell even she hadn't been able to imagine. Maybe that was the point.

It wasn't the stake embedded in her heart. No, that wasn't any picnic, but that pain was doable, ordinary even. How many times since becoming a vampire that balmy June evening had she been staked? A hundred times easy, possibly as high as two hundred. Paralysis was the bitch of it, not the pain. Still, if the plunged stake wasn't embedded deeply enough, it could be worked loose, provided the vampire in question was strong and skillful. This one couldn't be nudged loose; it had been twisted too deeply. Still, it wasn't the stake that was devouring her whole.

Her eyes veered to her left, barely able to catch Cynthia's still form out the corner of her eye. Her old friend was in the same boat, a wicked stake protruding from her chest. _I led her into a trap, _Coraline acknowledged with deep regret, ashamed. Not so much that she'd been caught in an ambush and dragged her friend along with, but that they'd fallen so neatly into the trap, and through Coraline's own blindness. She'd gone for the same carrot twice. She hadn't listened to her instincts.

Coraline's sharp mind analyzed the events that had led her to this moment, to being staked on the stone floor of an old abandoned building. Mick. He was the key; he'd always been the key to her undoing. Before him, she'd been on her way to being the most powerful vampiress in the United States. True, the ancients preferred Europe, and that's where the prestige was, but being getting the top spot in America was more than a mere stepping stone. Who knows what would have been around the corner if she'd stayed focused. And she'd thrown it away all because of love. That was rich.

What good had that love ever done her? Coraline fumed to herself. She knew Mick had always seen himself as her victim, as the proverbial fly caught in her sticky web. Well, she wasn't doing too peachy at the moment, if you wanted her opinion. Actually, out of the two of them, she was reasonably sure she was the only one that had ever been barbequed. She'd paid her own prices for loving him.

Still, as much grief as their relationship had ever cost her, nothing could compare to tonight, the grief tearing her soul down to the foundation. No matter how bad things got, Mick had never been devious, didn't play the manipulation games that most vampires thrived on. _Well, I wanted him to enjoy his set of fangs,_ she mused bitterly. Her little Pinocchio was a real vampire now, she guessed because the treachery he'd unloaded against her had completely blind-sighted the expert manipulator.

Their enterprise against Lance had been nothing more than a sham. The whole time, he'd been in league with the devil, selling her down the river. Not just her, but Cynthia, and her two brothers. They'd all shown up tonight, at an old warehouse not too far from her brother's fortress. According to Mick, it had been in production during WWII, but had long since folded. They'd arrived, only to have 50 of Lance's finest guards unleashed on them. Mick had been untouched. Now, they all were royally screwed. She would have scoffed if she'd been able. Her plan was for Lance to _think_ Mick was going to stab her in the back. It looked like her ex-husband had kicked that plan up a notch.

Coraline looked at Mick, who was watching her with an expression that could have frozen Jamaica. _Why, Mick?_ She asked silently, hating the fact she still loved him, maybe more than ever. _You think that the grass is greener with my brother? He'll eat you alive. _Mick had never been seduced by power, but maybe it was her own fault. Maybe she'd taught him a little too well this time around. She couldn't see Lance but could smell him. His stench was hard to miss. He was nearby, probably enjoying every minute of this show.

"You don't get it, do you, Coraline?" Mick asked her. She didn't see any gloating in his demeanor, but didn't see any sympathy, any feeling either. Well, not of the good kind, anyway. "You probably think I sold out for power or wealth, because that's what you'd do, isn't it, sweetheart?" The endearment stung, and tears glittered in her eyes against her will. "Actually, I think it's even all around. Your life is just buying what you stole…my life."

_Has he lost it?_ She wondered to herself, blinking hard, feeling a tear slip down her cheek. He really thought selling his soul was the big, brilliant answer? And how did he think Lance was going to give him his humanity? The bastard wanted the cure obliterated, and even if he didn't, it was all just temporary anyway. What garbage had Lance been feeding him, and since when was Mick a moron?

"I've got to hand it to you; this one really was a doozy. Seriously, did you arrange for me to get shot in the head, or was that just a stroke of luck? Either way, you didn't waste any time reaping in the benefits of my memory being gone. You thought taking care of me could make up for the hell you've put me through? You killed me, Coraline, right after you played me good. Oh, but that's right. You're a real pro."

Over the years of their tempestuous marriage, both Mick and her had fought some nasty battles, both physically and verbally. Still, none of them had held quite this much hatred, this much venom. Another tear slipped free. This could only mean one thing; he'd gotten his memory back. In the beginning of this, she'd rationalized the risk by figuring the worst that could happen is that she'd be back at square one. She'd miscalculated big time, it seemed.

"Yes, that's right, Coraline, the one thing you couldn't control, the silver's affects wearing off. You tried to do damage control, fed me bits and pieces of the truth, a calculated dose, I bet. I remember _everything_. You haven't changed a bit, you just hide it better." He gave her a disgusted look. "I never loved you, don't you get it? I was _obsessed_, I was _addicted_. No one could love you, because you're twisted, just as twisted as your brother. No offense."

The last comment was directed at her brother, who had come into Coraline's vision. It certainly didn't improve the view. "None taken," Lance smoothly countered. "Still, don't be hypocritical, Mick. It seems you're taking on some of the family traits."

Another shock slammed into Coraline. The scent her brother was covered in belonged to Beth of all people. She inhaled, but couldn't pick up a sexual tang to the smell, but she _did_ pick up traces of the blonde's blood, the same blood type as Coraline, lingering in the direction of Lance's mouth. Wild hope filled Coraline. If there was ever a reason for Mick to change his mind, this would be it.

If he did notice it, which he pretty much had to, Mick made no sign of it. Coraline's despair deepened. If Lance snacking off Beth didn't do it, then Mick had really gone around the bend. The sense of impending death, hers, was a palatable thing in the air. _Well, at least I can say I've never been boring, _she reflected, going numb inside, finally a reprieve from the wracking pain.

"You might have a point." Mick stared down at Coraline, eyes dead. "Aren't you proud, honey?"

"Mick, as much as I'm enjoying my sister being reduced to a puddle of tears, don't you think it's time we bring this little drama to a close?" _What's the rush?_ Coraline wondered, and then it hit her. Lance had been sent by the family to get her, nothing more. Dominic didn't want her dead; he wanted her brought in alive to be merely punished, which was at cross purposes with Lance's agenda. Even though Coraline was no match for her brother, she still was a nuisance. Still, Lance would never defy their grandsire, which put him in an indelicate dilemma. It seemed like Mick was the solution. Make it look like nothing more than a pissed ex-husband taking revenge on the woman who wronged him. Lance would kill him to appease Dominic, and he'd be no worse for the wear.

She paused for a moment to give grudging respect for her brother's clever way out. He hadn't mentally strained himself this much in years. How could Mick be so dumb? A blind guy could see through this! She spared another glance for Cynthia, genuinely starting to freak out on her behalf. She'd be just a loose end for Lance to tie up. If she was lucky, he'd kill her now, but Coraline wouldn't count on it. The family torture chamber never had time to gather dust.

"I'm on a roll," Mick protested mildly, shrugging. Her gaze darted to Mick, and she thought she saw a flicker of _something_. Without a vampire's amazing visual perception, she never would have caught it, the look was there and gone so quick. A question burned in her brain, but she decided it was premature to let it develop further.

"Far be it for me to stifle creative expression, but-"

"Well, then," Mick interrupted with a smirk, "don't." He crouched down beside Coraline, patted her cheek. The touch was supposed to have the presentation of mocking, but the touch was surprisingly gentle against her cheek, his fingers dragging against her skin for an unnecessary second or so. The question she was trying to dodge rose up again.

"Where's Matthew?" she heard her brother growl to one of his guards in less than slight irritation. The guard didn't answer, probably figured it was safer. "Does he think I've got patience coming out of my ass? Find him, and bring him to me."

Actually, the question regarding Matthew's whereabouts had been a good one. Her lapdog had been noticeably absent this evening. Oh, just as well, his presence wouldn't exactly have fended off disaster. If anything, he probably would have just screwed everything up worse. Obviously, her brother had been expecting him, too. It wasn't like Matthew to flake; he valued his existence too much. Had Mick killed him? She _had_ spilled her guts about Matthew's loyalty to her.

A ruckus erupted from outside the factory, half of Lance's guards spilling out of the room to check it out. Lance was snarling out orders to the other half, but Coraline couldn't focus on the words. Mick had his hand around the stake in her chest. Initially, she thought he'd jam it deeper, but instead, he eased it looser, the degree of paralysis lessened just a degree or so. Not enough to be able to move, but enough to be able to flex her chest, work the stake out further. Their gazes held for just a precious second, and she caught Mick's quick wink. She suddenly got it, and it nearly took her breath away. It was low-down, under-handed, and sheer genius!

Casually, he sauntered over to Cynthia, who was murdering him with her eyes. He repeated the process with her stake, carefully monitoring Lance out the corner of his eye. The egomaniac wasn't even paying attention to Mick's activities, complacent in the belief that Mick was his patsy. He stood in one graceful motion, leaning against the wall, indifferently watching Lance's minions hop around.

A collective howl of agony assaulted the night air, a growl of fury crawling up Lance's throat. "Is a _little_ competence too much to ask for?" he wondered aloud. "Kill the bitch," he ordered Mick, gesturing violently to his only sister. "Make it quick, but extremely painful."

Coraline subtly worked the stake looser, feeling the wood slide free inch by painful inch. This pain didn't bother her; it was invigorating, strengthening her. Her brother was in for one hell of a surprise. Whether they could pull it off though remained to be seen.

"Touching sentiment," a familiar voice drawled from the entrance. She was able to move her head up just enough to see Josef lounging in the doorway. "Brotherly devotion. Gets me every time."

"What is the meaning of this?" Lance growled, faltering when he saw twelve vampires file in after the 400-hundred year old.

The stake ejected from Coraline's chest. She was on her feet before it could land on the stone floor. Cynthia was quick to follow suit. Cheerful hatred burned in Coraline's eyes as she savored her brother's expression. "Been a change of plans," she announced.

Lance's wrathful gaze turned on Mick. "You cockroach," he hissed. "You played me? You _dared_ to play me?!"

"I guess you didn't do your homework good enough." Mick met the incensed accusation with quiet dignity. "You would have known my soul isn't for sale."

"Mick, don't bother trying to explain. He doesn't have a soul to sell," Coraline chimed in.

"As riveting as all this is, let's skip the witty banter," Josef suggested, voice hallow. To Coraline's eyes, he was a former shell of himself. Whatever had changed his mind about joining them, it hadn't fixed what the original problem. "I came to play."


	22. Battles

Mick St

The reviews, as always were awesome, and I enjoyed reading each and every one of them. There should be two more chapters after this one. My original goal was to be done before Moonlight returns, so I'll have the freedom to explore new opportunities. It looks like I'll more than meet it.

**Near Lance's Fortress**

Mick St. John executed a roundhouse kick square into the testicles of the little weasel Lance had hired as his Captain of the Guard. The steel heel of his boot had the little slime wheezing. As a fellow male, Mick might have felt some inherent sympathy, but was too busy keeping the blood stained fangs of another goon off his jugular. The ten seconds to settle the 'dispute' dragged, and which was brought to a close when Mick gained enough room to dig his claws into his assailant's own jugular.

Mick's two opponents came charging at him simultaneously. _Almost feels like cheating, _he mused internally as he maneuvered into a summersault, the two bodies, blurred with speed, crashed into each other, their momentum temporarily stunning them. Not in the mood be a good sport, Mick took the chance to rid them both of their heads. There wasn't much time to celebrate, since he just barely avoided his own decapitation by yet another of Lance's followers. "Don't you guys ever quit?" he groused as he ducked down into a crouch, sweeping his leg out behind him. The guy leapt over the obstacle, and the fight was on.

Since the two vampires were pretty evenly matched, the fight fell into a simple, relentless rhythm, reminding Mick of vigorous dancing. The recent hours Coraline spent training him kicked in. His fighting had been proficient originally, but lacked the viciousness that comes in handy when fighting on a vampire's level. A rush of adrenaline kicked in, and Mick's fighting kicked up another level, his enemy slowly losing ground, enough for Mick to be able to afford a swift glance at Coraline, fighting a female minion not too far away.

He'd put her through hell tonight, he reflected. It had been necessary, crucial even. Lance knew his sister too well for her to able to bullshit him, for manufactured emotions to cut it. Mick had crafted his role since the day he learned about Lance. To Mick, it seemed to go against his nature to plot behind Coraline's back, but the pay off had been too big to ignore. They needed to penetrate Lance's fortress with their necks in tact, needed to give Josef and his crew enough time to set up the trap outside. Coraline's pain had been an integral part of all that.

Part of the illusion had involved Mick shooting off his mouth about his memory making a big re-entrance in Lance's presence. Actually, Mick's memory was just as blank as the day he'd woke up in the freezer, and saw a goddess staring at him, her expression mystery personified. He'd felt an instant bond, which had only strengthened as the nights went by. That bond had evolved into an emotion that had to be love, or such a damn good imitation that it should be.

Now really wasn't the time to delve into the mysteries of the heart, Mick reflected wryly as he fought to maintain his advantage in the struggle. _Talk about a face only a mother could love, _he thought with a grimace. "I'm guessing we didn't interrupt your involvement with Mr. America, eh, buddy?" he goaded innocently. Obviously, Mr. America didn't appreciate the jab, because he made a diligent effort to rip Mick's arm off. Mick heard the approach of yet another adversary, and decided he needed to cut to the chase. With an animalistic roar, he sank his claws into a solid wall masquerading as a chest, and ripped the guy's heart out. "Regenerate that," he muttered, flinging the dying vampire at the growling mass rushing his way.

The next guy had some serious years on him, and it was a challenge for Mick just to stay alive, never mind actually get anywhere. Just when he thought it was all over, Coraline embedded her fangs into the back of the guy's neck, tugging him off Mick, sending him flying. She took the time to quickly survey him for damage, then jumped back into the fray. For the first time in several minutes, Mick had a minute to catch his breath, figuratively speaking, anyway. He took stock of the situation, thinking the scenario over.

Lance had 50 guards on display when they'd initially set foot in the old warehouse, the rest presumably at his strong-hold. Ten had been dismissed back into their regular routine, dragging Lance's rebel brothers along with them, leaving Cynthia and Coraline behind. Since Mick saw Coraline's brothers kicking serious ass, Josef and his team had successfully surprised the small group, letting Alexander and Duncan live to fight another day.

At that exact second, Lance took Alexander's head off with a flourish, and Mick quirked an eyebrow. Okay, correction, Duncan would live to fight another day. It really was too bad, since for a second or two, it looked like Lance had met his match in his younger brother. Josef, who had been tearing through enemies like a madman, leapt forward to take Alexander's spot.

Since twenty or so of the guards had rushed outside, only to be showered in silver nitrate. As it was, the odds were pretty near even.

As Mick launched into another fight of his own, he took a second to acknowledge a huge debt of gratitude towards Josef. Without him, none of this would have been possible, in more ways than one. He'd called Josef when he'd made the decision to fake his own memory, apparently before Josef's mysterious depression. The elder vampire wouldn't win any Miss Manners contests, but he'd been a wealth of information, told him every detail of Mick's mercurial relationship with Coraline, giving him the necessary insight to pull off his performance tonight.

Josef's roar echoed along the factory, the fury in the sound a living organism. Mick didn't have the luxury of satisfying his curiosity, as he had his hands full.

He wasn't the only one who needed concentration. Despite superior age and strength, Lance found himself needing to pull out all the stops, just to stay alive. Josef was wielding a silver bladed sword with an expert's ease, and Lance was using a metal bar to fend off the deadly swipes. Part of Josef's advantage lay in the fact he'd caught Lance off guard. Until recently, they'd been battling at opposite ends of the room. The sudden, vicious nature of Josef's attack had blind-sighted him.

Hadn't he heard Josef Kostan went soft? He wondered, exhausted. His brother, Alexander had managed to get in some good licks, left some rather painful wounds that weren't getting the chance to heal. Now, he was dealing with Attila the Hun! He ducked, feeling the breeze of Josef's blade on his neck. "Where the fuck is she?" he heard his enemy snarl.

Lance panted, trying to smash the bar against Josef's shin, who nimbly hopped over the rod. Lance did manage to bring it down on his shoulder, but the 400-year old shook it off. "Mind narrowing it down?"

"Beth Turner, you asshole," Josef hissed, grazing Lance's arm. Under normal circumstances, it would have been insignificant, but as the weapon was silver, a small amount of poision was seeping into his blood stream, weakening him ever so slightly. "Delectable, blonde, a real smart ass, any of this ringing a bell?"

"I don't see…" Lance started to protest. This was over her? Josef didn't strike him as the possessive sort.

"Let me illuminate it," Josef snarled, whacking Lance's face with the smooth blade, searing the skin with chemical-like burns. "I can smell her, her _blood_!" His onslaught against Lance grew more erratic, more deadly. "What'd you do to her? Huh? Huh?" He'd dropped the sword, and was pummeling Lance with an abandon, with an animalistic violence he hadn't succumbed to since being young and stupid. Lance had no choice but to surrender dignity, and sink down to Josef's level.

Rolling around like two Irishman in a drunken brawl on the floor, they clawed, bit, and punched wherever the opportunity allowed. No one on either side could have helped, they were a blur. Neither could really get the upper hand, now that adrenaline had kicked in on Lance's part, and Josef's weapon had been discarded. In actuality, Josef came there to die, was just waiting for the bastard to get the stones to get a clean shot. And until he did, Josef wanted to introduce him to new levels of pain.

Kicking Josef free, Lance waited until Josef came charging down on him again, thrusting a hidden stake, previously concealed in the sleeve of his jacket, into Josef's heart. Josef crashed back onto the floor, paralyzed. Lance picked up the deserted sword, prepared to chop Josef's head off in one clean stroke.

A kick to his face dislodged his oily smirk, the well aimed blow sending him tumbling back onto his ass, the sword clattering on the stone floor beside him. Lifting it with her foot, Coraline neatly caught it, severing her brother's leg with cold efficiency while his guard was down. He howled, trying to curl in on himself. Not in the mood to mess around, Coraline's brought the sword down again, this time easily decapitating him.

Standing over her oldest brother, Coraline frowned. The whole thing was seriously anti-climatic. Well, well, well, Mr. Big Shot hadn't been invincible after all. After all the hell he'd raised, all the power he gorged himself on, he was just another vampire, killed by a pretty ordinary death. She shrugged, and turned to inspect the battle, which was winding down.

Her four other brothers had stood on the side-lines, watching the battle, waiting to see which way the tide would turn, not about to pick a losing side. When it looked like Coraline's faction was going to win the day, they jumped onboard like the rats they were. At that point, several of Lance's guards fled, or quickly switched sides. She held up Lance's head, making sure each other every one of her surviving brothers could see it. _Four out of seven left standing, _she mused to herself. Besides Alexander and Lance, their brother Francis had bit the big one. She didn't feel too bad about it, since any of them would have stabbed her in the back at first opportunity, and visa versa. A loving family they weren't.

Her three brothers bowed their heads in acknowledgement of her victory, and she knew Dominic would be impressed. She'd have to sweet talk him, but she figured she could handle the ancient, especially since she'd proven her worth by defeating the second most powerful vampire in the clan. Mick would testify that Lance was planning on weaseling around the orders, and Dominic would be satisfied order had been kept.

A soft gurgling drew her focus, Josef lying paralyzed near her feet. She unceremoniously tossed Lance's head aside. "Here you go," she said with some affection, pulling the stake free. Josef inhaled sharply, but didn't get to his feet. The eyes he turned to look at Coraline were haunted.

"Kill me," he whispered.

"You want to quit, do it on your own time," she countered. She knelt down beside him, helping him up. "You want me to do it because you can't kill yourself. You love yourself too much."

"I've got nothing left, Coraline," he insisted dully.

"If that was true, you'd be dead already." She gave him a penetrating look, one that reminded him she knew him too well, that he couldn't get one up on her. "You came for Beth." What was it about that girl that made vampires trip over their own feet to rescue her? Had Josef come to bail out his two old friends? Nope, it was all about the blonde. Coraline brushed her irritation aside, reminding herself not to look a gift horse in the mouth. All she cared about was results, not motivation.

Coraline gestured for her brother Gerald to bring one of Lance's wounded guards over to them. "Where's Beth Turner?" she demanded, picking up the sword she'd used to send the black-eyed bastard to hell.

"Who?" he gasped, reeling from the pain of missing one of his arms.

Coraline grasped Lance's hair, bringing the head near the wounded vampire's nose. "The owner of this scent all over his mouth," she explained impatiently.

"I…I don't know…" he whimpered.

Snorting, Coraline handed the sword to Josef, once again tossing her brother's head. "Here, a good torture session oughta cheer you up." Her eyes locked on Mick, who was across the room, his expression mysterious. Never one to dance around an issue, Coraline strode over to him, leaving Josef to do his own interrogating.

"Hey," he greeted softly, eyes examining her for wounds.

"Hey." She did her own check, inhaling for the scent of his blood, finding small traces, but nothing to get freaked out about. "You handled yourself well tonight."

"Gee, thanks, coach." She snickered, shaking her head. "I couldn't help but notice Lance is no longer with us. Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy."

"No kidding." Her eyes scanned his face, searching for clues, trying to sort reality from illusion. She knew better than most that sometimes the lines got blurred. "Well, you were right. I shouldn't have over-estimated him. With a good plan, his house of cards came crashing down."

"I guess it would be a little juvenile to say 'I told you so'," he mused with mock solemnity.

"Only a lot." She rolled her eyes with an ease she really didn't feel. "You're dying to."

"Sure, but I'll give you a pass. Coraline-"

"So, your memory's back," she interrupted, wanting to cut to the chase. "That's news to me."

"Actually, no, it's not." Mick shrugged at her raised eyebrow. "Just part of the role I was playing. I thought it'd make it more convincing. I called Josef a while back, grilled him pretty good. He gave me a hard time, but he gave me what I needed."

"So, you know everything," she assessed flatly.

"Probably not everything, but the major stuff, yeah," he confirmed, glancing around them. He brought his hand up to touch her hair, leaning his forehead against hers. She felt a sob creep up her throat, hitching her unneeded breath. "Coraline-"

"Ahem," Josef's voice butted into the moment. "As much as I hate to interrupt this installment of The Dead and the Restless, you two can wax sentimental some other time. Beth's somewhere in Lance's fortress and I need back-up. Hey, I scratched your back, scratch mine."

"Sounds fair," Mick agreed. "A deal's a deal."

"What exactly was the deal?" Coraline was still a little fuzzy on the details, and she hated to be kept out of the loop.

"Lover boy can explain later," Josef snapped. "Right now, I just want to keep Goldilocks out, so I can dump her off on you two."

Mick glanced at Coraline, wry puzzlement all over his face. "Okay, I'm lost. He actually _likes_ this woman or was he just really bored?"

"Oh, that's just the Josef Kostan brand of charm," Coraline informed him dismissively. She turned to Josef. "And you can't dump her on us, by the way, whether we owe you or not. I suspect Lance turned her, and she's going to need a sire. Mick is still dealing with his own issues, and Beth would probably rather take a sunbath than accept my help."

"And this is my problem how? Help me out here."

"You came out of your funk just to save the fair Miss Turner," Coraline pointed out, secretly relieved. Keeping busy would keep him away from suicidal pastimes. "You care, Josef, whether you like it or not."

"What's to like?" he snarked.

"We're wasting time," Coraline reminded him calmly.

With a moody Josef, Cynthia, what remained of Josef's crew, and Coraline's surviving brothers, they made their way towards Lance's fortress. Cynthia kept shooting daggers at Mick with her eyes, who just smiled casually in return. Between Josef and Cynthia, Coraline was beginning to understand what frustrated mothers with difficult children might feel like.

As it turned out, the security at Lance's fortress was lax, as the majority of Lance's team was out or had been at the factory. The egomaniac hadn't been expecting any problems, so had given a lot of his soldiers the night off. It didn't take long to find Beth; all they needed to do was follow their noses. The smell of a sleeping fledgling was distinct, and Beth's scent was familiar to Josef and Coraline at least. She was in the East Wing, locked up in what amounted to a gilded cage.

She lay on the four-poster bed, serene in the death sleep. Lance, ever the dramatist, had posed her with her hands folded over her chest, her long legs stretched out, blonde hair fanning out over the pillow. She looked like something out of a tasteful porno with that get-up, and the heavy make-up Lance must have applied himself, fangs peeking out from beneath her ruby lips.

Josef's howl of outrage filled the room.


	23. Futures

What can I say? The support from you guys is awesome. In a lot of ways, I'm really going to miss writing this story, although I don't plan on vanishing from the Moonlight scene. There's plenty of one-shots to be written, and I already have an idea for a long-shot or two rattling around in my brain. Hey, someone's got to carry the Mick/Coraline banner! Anyway, without further ado…

**LA**

The fledging gasped for breath that she didn't need, her body jerking violently as she felt the air as a living thing against her skin. The room was dim, thank God, but her eyes still blinked violently. The room was vivid with color; she could make out the individual pigmentations. There was muffled sound outside, and she could hear slow heartbeats; feel the life-force of other vampires in the house. She'd felt this way once before, but that was different. That was a thrill ride; this was a fall off a cliff.

Relief joined the torrent of other sensations; a sense of warm safety enfolded her. She was surrounded by Josef's scent, could feel the aura of his strength and control against her tingling skin. She didn't recognize the room, but they were still in LA, the sun was a vicious, living presence beyond the protection of the thick curtains. It was gentle spring in New York, here the heat ruled.

His footsteps were muffled by the carpet in the hall, but every fiber in her body reacted to his presence. The closer he got, the stronger the reaction got. The door swung open unceremoniously, and Josef stood, his 400 hundred years radiating off him. She'd heard Mick refer to it as 'decay' but there was nothing gross about Josef. It was power she was sensing, and she liked it.

"Welcome back." There was something different about him that she couldn't put her finger on. Her head was spinning, both from his presence and the fact that she'd undergone a species change. Excuse her if she was a little off her game. "You're safe, Beth."

"Duh," she tossed out lightly, and a flicker of a smile took his lips. She suddenly wanted those lips on her, showing her just how a vampire's senses could be used. _Down girl, _she told herself sternly. _Playtime can wait; you've got serious issues to iron out here._ "I figured, since I'm here and all." Her stomach tightened impossibly hard. Maybe 'safe' shouldn't be taken for granted. "Where's Lance? Is he-"

"History." Josef was at her side in an instant, running his hands over her face, soothing energy rolling off him in waves. "The dead can't make problems, little fledgling. Forget about him."

Forget that asshole? She'd love to, actually, but this was definitely a case of easier said than done. That oily voice, that creepy sneer, the feel of his fangs tearing into her neck…all that stuff was going to stay with her for a while. Still, it was a relief that he'd been sent to hell where he belonged, it helped take the sting out. And Josef's presence helped keep any panic at bay, any grief for what had been stolen from her.

A craving invaded Beth's system, one raw and primal, for nourishment, for life. She whimpered, and Josef pulled her close. "Easy, baby. Josef has what you need." She looked up to find his eyes colorless, his fangs extended. He lightly ran his fangs across his wrist, blood so dark it was nearly black welling up. Before he could offer it to her mouth, she grabbed it greedily, her tongue lapping up the powerful blood eagerly. "Sink your fangs in, Beth, _suck_." The reporter part of her brain, active and alive if a little fuzzy, noted that Josef was using a tone he'd never used with her before…affectionate and doting, down right indulgent. Automatically, she complied, although whether the response came from a fledgling's obedience to an older vampire, or pure instinct, she didn't know.

The more she drank, the hungrier she got. She snarled in delight, tearing the flesh. She heard Josef chuckle at her exuberance, but it sounded far away. All too soon, he gripped her hair and gently pried her away. He licked his own wrist closed, stroking her hair with his free hand. "When you're a little older, I'll teach you to clean up your own messes. Plus, you really could stand to learn a thing or two about finesse."

"Sorry." She flashed him a sheepish grin, licking around her mouth to clean access blood away. His blood was a little bitter, probably from his strength and sheer age, but underneath the bitterness was a flavor that she craved, something that called to her. A wave of exhaustion crashed over her, and she lay back against the velvet coverlet. The silk robe against her skin caressed her, lulling her to sleep. Her last conscious thought was that she'd have to thank Josef for getting rid of that skanky number Lance had forced her to wear.

Josef watched Beth's body shut down around her, watched her sink into peaceful sleep. He smoothed her hair away from her cheek, then adjusted the neck of her robe just so. His fangs hadn't brought her over the threshold of immortality, but already he felt the protective urges of a sire kick in, felt an age-old surge of affection for her. The last time he'd seen her she'd been an adult, now she was a baby. His baby. Adoption, well, it really was a beautiful thing.

Not that he'd been on the market for responsibility; he hadn't been looking to play sire to anyone. Still, there was the undeniable thrill in the challenge, the anticipation of the dance between them. He'd sired before, naturally, you didn't live 400 years and not make one vampire, but after Sara, he'd never expected to have a fledgling on his hands again. Still, as Coraline had pointed out, he was the only shot for Beth's mentor. Even if Mick's memory had been up and running, he wasn't the ideal candidate. All that self-loathing and his human wanna-be routine got old fast, and he hardly had the balls to mold Beth the right way. And Coraline, well that wasn't even an option. He wouldn't trust his goldfish with her.

This wouldn't be a picnic, he wasn't into delusion. Beth had been served up a raw deal, and she was likely to have some melt-downs. Her life, as she'd known it, was over. Film crews and vampires didn't mix, and she couldn't be around humans safely for at least a year, unless he wanted her to start treating the mortal ones like an all-you-can-eat buffet. He'd have to take her out of LA, he reasoned, where she wouldn't be easily recognized. Not New York, there were too many memories there to pull him down, and she didn't need him wallowing. She needed him at the top of his game.

His mind steeped down into practical matters. He had Beth's death to fake, a fledgling to nurture, two new fool-proof identities to fake, a business to re-locate, and new freshies to acquire. He thrived on pressure, because he dreaded boredom even more than pain. This was the mode he thrived on, not the grieving lover. The languishing in melancholy routine just wasn't his thing.

That wasn't to say that Sara's death didn't claw at him, didn't permeate his system with agony. He'd learn to bury it, someone his age had to have talent for evasion. He'd use Beth's training as his distraction, use it as a crutch. Modern psychology wouldn't agree with his approach, but screw that. He'd been a millionaire before Freud took his first piss.

Josef starting making the necessary phone calls, his fax machine working over-time, his employees dancing to his tune like the puppets they were. He kept one eye on Beth the whole time. He'd spoil that girl, but she needed the pampering, he figured. She'd held it together earlier, but he'd been using his allure to soothe her, keep her calm. It wouldn't hold out forever, and he shouldn't resort to parlor tricks too long, anyway. She'd have to tackle her demons eventually.

He examined her beautiful body through the robe, another sort of anticipation filling him. Fledglings were horny as hell, even more so than their elders, and required constant attention. It would take a while before carnal needs would set in, as her body was still processing the change, but in a few days, he'd have a ferocious appetite to satisfy, which is probably what good ol' Lance had in mind. Josef felt a possessive growl burn his throat. He told himself to get a grip, that he was going to be the only bedmate in his fledgling's life for the immediate future. _Gee, not exactly the world's toughest job,_ he mused as he got back to work.

She woke up six hours after she'd passed out, sitting up, gulping in air she didn't need. Her anxiety was a tangible thing, clawing at the air. A second later, she was in his arms, and he was rocking her gently. "I'm drowning," she gasped, clawing at his shirt.

"Your lungs are useless, sweetheart." He'd never used endearments with her before in earnest, but it came naturally now. She didn't seem to notice. "Your body's still processing the change, give it time." In time, she'd learn to breathe to blend in, but those lessons were for another time.

She calmed down quickly, and he was pleased he didn't have to use as much of his soothing energy. He'd wean her over the next week, get the inevitable over with, and be able to move onto the next faze of her development. "I was dreaming. I was remembering," she whispered. "I think I understand now."

_Ah, baby babble,_ he decided sentimentally. "Uh-huh. Take it easy, okay?" He fed her, not minding when she made a mess. He was just glad she had a healthy appetite. Some new vamps were squeamish about their new diet, and drastic measures had to be taken to get them to feed. Not his girl, he thought with pride. She was a natural. Of course, her fang donor had been one of the oldest, most powerful vampires in the world, far more so than Josef's, much as he hated to admit it. With the right diet and training, Beth would surpass Mick in strength in ten years easy, and Josef in a hundred, at a guess.

Of course, that kind of strength wasn't without its downside. Power and strength without wisdom and control was a one-way ticket to disaster. He wasn't going to let her superior maturity go to her head, or let her forget limits. If Miss Turner thought she was the Alpha here, she was in for a big surprise.

This time, after Beth fed, she was bright-eyed and alert, the urge for rest a good twenty minutes away at least. Usually, fledglings only were awake long enough to fill up until they went into heat which was 3-6 days after the initial death sleep was over. Then again, Beth wasn't a usual case. "Knowing you, there's probably a 3-page long list of questions rattling around in your brain," he told her, carefully arranging her against the pillows. Josef knew they had to talk before her hormones started assaulting her in a few days.

Beth smiled; feeling like it was the first time in decades. She knew it wasn't very women's lib of her, but she was soaking up the way Josef was handling her, like she was fragile glass. Most of her life, it had been a point of pride for Beth to be independent, to get in touch with her inner girl-power as Josef had once snarked. But now, she felt vulnerable and lost, and the only thing keeping her anchored was Josef. There would be time to stand on her own two feet later. After all, time was kind of a non-issue now.

"Did you kill Lance?" It probably wasn't the most pertinent question she could have tossed out there, but it just popped out of her mouth.

"I contributed." Flat hatred tightened Josef's expression. "Coraline dealt the killing blow."

Beth stiffened at the name. She still hated the vampiress, but could no longer keep her in the slot of 'evil incarnate.' She knew now Coraline had never meant to kill or traumatize her, that Coraline was an actual ancestor, and now she learned that Coraline had set them all free in a major sense. She refused to forgive Coraline for kidnapping her, for sending her mother in permanent paranoia, for masquerading as Morgan and slithering into Beth's world, but nothing was as black/white as it used to be.

"Are you sure he's dead? People in that family have nine lives."

"Beheading's kind of a final thing. Don't worry. I saw him die, he won't be coming back." Josef stroked her cheek, and she leaned into the touch. At least that was one worry laid to rest.

"Where's my freezer? Don't vampires sleep in those?" Beth frowned, wondering if there was something abnormal about her. She didn't want to go through eternity being a freak.

Josef flashed her a reassuring grin. "Yes, but not at first. By tomorrow night, you should be ready. You have to let your body finish adjusting to the change. It basically already has, the fine tuning is what's going on. You'll be sharing one with me." There was nothing brusque in his tone, but a cool authority had set in. She found it comforting, knowing someone was in charge of the circus.

"Don't throw me in that briar patch," she retorted cheekily, thinking of his defined body. She thought of her dream, feeling a catch in her throat, but quickly pushed it down. _Keep it light, Turner, _she cautioned herself. _Now's no time to get emotional with him. _"I didn't know vampires fed off each other. Is that a newbie thing, or could Mick feed off you right now?"

"Only fledglings feed off another vampire for substance on a regular basis, and that's only with the vampire acting as their sire. Too much undead variety can upset their system. Although the upset's only temporary, it's a pain in the ass, believe me. Never want to go there again. Drinking strictly their sire's blood lasts only a few weeks, then they're weaned, and put on a human diet." Beth closed her eyes, lulled into a state of relaxation by the steady rhythm of his voice as he explained. She knew Josef knew she was awake, by the tempo of her heartbeat. She could hear his, a constant factor. She wondered what it'd be like hearing ten human hearts working at once.

"After that?" she asked, pulling her train of thought back on track.

"After that, vampires still can and do drink undead blood, although it's not much for nourishment. It's to absorb their power, or it's for sexual purposes." A devilish note entered his voice, and Beth felt her own heartbeat pick up a little, since she had a feeling she'd experience that one first-hand. "Sometimes, vampires put strong vampiric blood in with the human variety, to give it some kick."

Beth opened her eyes, wanting to see his expression. "Does Mick know about all this? About Lance turning me, and…you training me?" She hoped Mick wouldn't freak out too bad about all this, but she doubted his reaction would be pretty. He had a monster complex, and he saw himself as her protector. Would he beat himself up for not being able to save her? Would he reject her friendship, see her as some kind of fiend? Lance said Mick was working for him, had that been a big lie?

"Don't get yourself worked up." Josef took her back into his arms, stroking her back through the thin robe. "Mick knows you've joined the ranks, and watched me pack you off with his blessings."

"Lance said he was working for him," Beth told him, not quite convinced this would all wrap up nice and tidy.

"He _thought_ Mick was his little puppet, all part of the plan Mick cooked up with Coraline. Yes, he was working with Coraline," Josef asserted before Beth could interrupt. "They're going for round 50 in the Mick/Coraline saga, just hope they don't make a mess yours truly has to clean up."

"How could he?" Beth demanded, trying to jerk free of Josef's grasp. Just what had been going on while she was in New York? And why hadn't Josef said something?!

"You're not exactly a blushing virgin, my dear. I'm sure you know _how_." Josef clucked his tongue when Beth just glared at him. "Touchy-touchy. Let's hope Lance didn't kill your sense of humor. To answer your question, Mick and Coraline share a connection that runs deep. It's dysfunctional and complicated, been downright unhealthy at times, but it's genuine. That's how." Josef hesitated, like he was thinking of adding something, but decided against it.

"You said she was like a bad drug habit," Beth reminded him, eyes full of accusation. Inside, she was seething. Although she really didn't want Mick for herself, she couldn't stand the idea of Coraline's hooks in him. Couldn't he find someone else to shack up with?

"And I'm sticking with that, but I'm not the boy's keeper." Josef gave her a stern look. "You've got enough on your plate without worrying about Mick. Let them play house until it caves down on them, focus on your game-plan."

Beth's burst of anger had sapped most of her energy, and she sagged against him. He resettled her, and she knew she wouldn't be awake much longer. "Can I call him later? I want to make sure everything's okay."

"Absolutely not," Josef refused firmly. "It's a distraction you don't need, and don't give me that face, young lady. You may call him in a month, once we're settled in Scotland."

"Huh?" Beth blinked at him, puzzled. "Come again?"

"We can't stay in LA, sweetheart. We need to put distance between us and your adoring public." He'd reverted back to his doting tone, Beth noted. Why were they going to Scotland? Her mind knew there was an answer, but it was getting fuzzy. She wanted to argue about calling Mick, wanted to throw a fit, but she was too tired. She surrendered to sleep, promising herself to get more answers later.

Josef kissed her forehead, returning to the desk in the room to look over paperwork involving Beth's new identity. He'd let her choose her name, although their last name was settled, Mr. and Mrs. Night. Josef smirked at his own joke, and wondered if Beth would appreciate the humor. In any event, these were quick fixes, just for a couple years until Josef had the time for setting up a more permanent set-up. She was going to sulk over his stance on contacting Mick, but Josef was prepared to deal with it. In fact, he found it incredibly sexy, and knew he'd have no trouble distracting her.

His phone rang, and he checked the ID. Curious as to what his old friend wanted, he picked up before the second ring was finished. "Ah, Coraline, I thought you'd be too busy celebrating to bother calling your savior."

"You didn't exactly do it single-handily, darling. You sound better," she assessed, sounding relieved. _Well, the siren does care_, he realized. Maybe there was hope for her yet.

"Nothing like a new project to get the old juices flowing." He glanced at Sara's picture, silently apologizing. It looked like their reunion had been indefinitely postponed. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I have needed to get off my ass and start flexing my muscles."

"Now, that's what I like hearing." She chuckled, the sound slightly wicked. "You've got to admit, tonight was kind of fun. Well, once the stake was out of my chest."

"Speak for yourself," he retorted. He'd come on a suicide mission, fun didn't figure into it. "Amazing. I came for a fight and ended up with a newborn. Fate has an odd sense of humor." Not that he was complaining, predictability was the kiss of death for vampires. Maybe that's why he liked the stock market. It was a volatile son of a bitch.

"Mmmm. I mainly called to say goodbye. I'm flying out to Paris tomorrow with Cynthia and Mick. I've been summoned by the grandsire." He noticed she didn't sound too worried, but probably didn't have too much to be worried about. If she flattered the old coot, played her cards right, with her victory under her belt, she'd be in favor in no time.

"Miss Personality and Mick on the same plane? I'm tempted to join you. Way better than the crap known as Realty TV."

"I'm sure he can take what she has to dish out." Josef knew Coraline wasn't oblivious to the root of Cynthia's little attitude towards Mick. Coraline didn't miss a beat. "Besides, everything goes down better in First Class. I don't exactly have them sitting together."

"Good move. So, how's the second honeymoon going now that Mick has the dirt on your history?" When Mick had grilled him over the phone, Josef hadn't been able to read much into his voice, and had been curious how he took the bombshells.

"We went over it for hours. He said we've been making a fresh start since he lost his memory, he'd like to keep making it." Oh, for the love of-Now she sounded downright dreamy. Josef rolled his eyes.

"Wonderful," he drawled. "On second thought, I'm glad I'm not tagging along. Just thinking about you two cooing all over Paris makes me wonder if vampires really can vomit." Coraline laughed, too securely perched on cloud nine for him to have any impact.

"How's Beth?" she asked, sounding more curious than anything.

"She'll be able to mop the floor with you in 80 years," he informed her proudly.

"We'll see," Coraline replied dismissively. "Good luck and all that."

"You too." He just hoped Mick didn't do a 180 once his memory showed back up. The brooding hero routine could only be cute for so long. Also, as much as he didn't want to admit it, he'd like to see Coraline happy. If nothing else, it'd keep her out of his hair. He heard the line disconnect, and closed the phone. It looked the two of them were in for some very interesting times.


	24. Endings

Well, this is really it, the last chapter, the farewell segment. Everyone, thanks so much for making this a rewarding fanfic experience. I don't plan to do a sequel on this story, the narrative I wanted to tell is done. Enjoy!

**LA**

_Talk about the anti-climatic, _Mick St. John thought ruefully, opening his eyes, alone in his freezer. Automatically, he scented the air, his senses reaching out for his lover and sire. The little vixen was prancing around, probably naked, in the bathroom, drawing herself a bath. Faint traces of jasmine and vanilla adorned the air, which meant Coraline was in the midst of her weekly beauty routine, the one that lasted a while. A wise man let women alone while they were undergoing such rituals, and Mick tried to be in the habit of being smart.

It was funny, a riot really. One minute, it was missing in action and the next, it was up and running like nothing had ever happened. He remembered everything in high definition, right down to getting his first spanking at four. He remembered the strict, but loving Catholic upbringing of his youth, his confusing teenage years, the pressure of medical school, his hellish stint as a soldier, and the naïve enthusiasm of his post war years, making corny music and paying the bills by patching up dogs and horses.

Maybe he remembered it better than he ever had before, because he didn't see it through the same pair of eyes, he wasn't the brooding crusader who was a human in a vampire's body. Before, he'd seen only the edited version, airbrushing the flaws away, inflating the good. Yeah, there'd been some good times, but it hadn't been heaven on earth. He'd been at loose ends, unable to really shine in music and not satisfied by the medical scene. He'd been bored at times, and wanting more to life, tired of the same old grind. That's why Coraline had called to him; she was everything opposite of predictable or ordinary.

After Coraline turned him, he conveniently forgot that part, pining for something that had never really been there in the first place. It was easier to blame her, to resent her than deal with the fact that maybe his nature wasn't so vanilla, that maybe he liked this new world she was showing him. His mind couldn't process that, so he rebelled. It wasn't really his fault; he just hadn't been equipped to deal with this. His only experience with vampires had been restricted to Bela Lugosi fare, and his hard-core religious background didn't help. Good was good, evil was evil, that was just the bottom line.

Coraline sure as hell wasn't good, so she had to be evil. He drank blood, he delighted in violence, he had to be evil too…a monster. As far as he was concerned, she'd damned him, and there was no forgiveness for that. She'd separated him from the precious body and blood of Christ, casting him into the void.

Eventually, he'd developed a 'if you can't beat 'em, join 'em' attitude, especially during the 70's. That was the decade when he'd rode a wild circuit of Josef's parties, drank gallons from willing freshies, just about drowned in carnal delights. Of course, that had been in the off periods with Coraline, as she wasn't known as a vamp to share, not where Mick was involved, anyway. And as promiscuous as Coraline could be, she never made Mick share either. It wasn't exactly a hardship, since the walls were known for shaking when they let loose. Obviously, whatever problems there had been, and there was plenty to go around, it wasn't in the sex department.

Looking back on it, he saw it in a way he never would have seen before, never wanted to see, all the wasted chances. It never would have been perfect, but whatever him and Coraline had, a love that just wouldn't quit, even when it overlapped with hatred, it could have been amazing, had the potential to have been something beautiful. That wasn't all his fault, and he wasn't going to pretend it was. Coraline had kept playing her games, not learning from her mistakes, giving him more reasons not to trust her. Still, if he'd ever just forgiven her, stopped rejecting who they _both_ were, maybe she would have knocked it off.

_That's a subject I could go around and around about all day. Not going there,_ Mick told himself. No way was he going to let himself get bogged down. It happened, it wasn't pretty, but it happened. That was then, this was now. Coraline had changed, he could see that. She was still devious, still ruthless, but she was shooting straight with him, not trying to manipulate the situation. She'd proven her love for him a lot of times since he lost his memory.

She'd also put her money where her mouth was, proved he came first. After Lance's defeat, a year ago, they'd traveled with Miss Sourpuss to France, summoned by the head of the clan himself. They'd met at an old Château, not too far from Paris. It wasn't hard to see why this guy was calling the shots. Lance had been a peon in comparison, the power radiating off Dominick had been awesome and terrifying. He hadn't been thrilled with Coraline, although he was impressed with the resourceful kill under her belt, and had been swayed by her obedient persona.

Still, he hadn't been without his terms, which were straightforward. He'd ordered her to destroy what was left of the cure; he didn't want to hear about any more research, and she'd have to pay from her own pocket the money he'd spent keeping her in line. In addition, she would publicly beg his forgiveness before the _entire_ family and their minions, and swear her allegiance to Dominick. If she could do that, then everything would be peachy keen.

Since the alternative wasn't great, Coraline swallowed her pride, and did what she was told. Appeased, Dominick offered her Lance's old place, as his favorite, her power only second to his. Her sire, Veronica had been pissed off good, since she'd had her eye on that position for hundreds of years. It was a tempting carrot to dangle, for that reason alone, and Mick could see Coraline wanted it bad. But a blind guy could've seen the strings. Dominick would own Coraline, just like a king pretty much owned a vassal in the medieval days.

Also, her ex-husband didn't have a role to play in this little drama. Marrying and turning Mick hadn't been family approved. If she wanted the power and status within the bloodline, she could forget bringing an 85 year-old 'child' along for the ride, and she'd have to take on Dominick as her mate, keeping the power all in the family, sort to speak. It was obvious the guy had it bad for her, wanted to dominate her in and out of the bedroom.

Still, huge fly in the ointment or not, by vampire standards, it was a hell of a deal. Coraline had been trying to claw her way up her whole life, and this was the pinnacle, as good as it'd get. Life, in the mortal or immortal scale, was all about choices, and Coraline had an important one to make. It would change a lot of destinies.

She hadn't hesitated, not even for a second. She sent a dazzling smile Dominick's way, patted his cheek, and shook her head. "Enticing offer, but I've got other plans. No hard feelings, huh?" The ancient vampire had literally done a double-take; you could've knocked him over with a feather. Coraline swept out in a grand exit, taking Mick's hand, squeezing it gently. "We'll make our own bloodline," she whispered.

Mick brought her fingers to his lips, kissing them reverently. "You're still royalty, Coraline. You're _my_ queen."

"As it should be," she declared, winking sassily in his direction.

In his freezer, a year later, the memory still made him grin. He knew how much that decision cost her, and it told him more than mere words ever could, about how much she loved him. For the last year, he'd made sure his own actions conveyed how much he loved her. She was definitely a force of nature, sometimes a destructive one, and she reveled in the darker side of her nature. She behaved herself, up to a point, for his sake, but made it clear her morals weren't nearly as sensitive, but as long as they had fun, she was willing to play along.

Thirty minutes later, she was finishing up, when Mick joined her in the bathroom. He admired her naked body, unconsciously licking his lips. She made her own inspection, a wanton light dancing in her eyes. "Morning," she greeted, voice low and velvet. She sauntered over, slowly running her hands up his chest, leaving a trail of sensation in her wake. His fingers burning to touch her, so he let them caress the curve down her spine, traveling until he could give her firm ass a playful squeeze, urging her against his evident arousal.

"You're always horny when you wake up," she said around a chuckle.

"With you, I'm always horny," he corrected, nipping achingly close to her jugular, where she craved the pressure of his teeth most. He brought their lips together, pouring every ounce of love and lust inside him into the kiss, hearing her moan, and return the favor. It didn't take them long to get lost in each other, their bodies pressing together urgently, trying to get closer and closer. The tip of his cock nudged at her wet opening, and he slipped in a fraction, teasing them both, before pulling away.

Coraline tore her mouth away, trying to glare. "Want you," she announced gutturally, finding those fabulous eyes glazed over.

"I know. Want you too." He gripped her hips, and hoisted her up, her legs automatically slipping around his waist. It was a long journey back to the bedroom, since they kept rubbing together, and several times, she playfully tried to connect their bodies, and he penetrated her shallowly more than once. They reached the bed by the freezer, one they'd purchased especially for their trysts, since it was a lot more romantic than the couch or top of the freezer. He ignored the urge to toss her on the bed, and carefully laid her down, smoothing a hand along her cheek.

"I love you," he whispered, kissing her wrist, licking lightly along the subtle vein there. "Let me show you." He had the urge to make love to her, to cherish her body in a way that he never had before. They'd done just about every other sexual act known to man or vampire with the exception of threesomes or orgies, and it hadn't all been fangs and claws, there had been affection, but never quite tenderness. Well, he planned on changing that.

"But I want you," she protested, a moan coloring her words. She reached down to grip his throbbing erection, to guide him to her, but he swatted her hand away. Whether she was stronger or not, he was determined to get his way.

"Humor me," he told her, kissing her long and deep. He showered kisses on her body, from her neck to ankles, no patch of skin neglected, except for where she needed his attention the most. She mewled, her own hand slipping down to her aching core, beginning to pleasure herself. Mick sucked in a breath, almost losing his control at the erotic sight, wanting to claim her. With a shaking hand, he tugged on her wrist, spoiling her fun. "No cheating," he gritted out. "Don't make me tie you up."

"Oh, kinky," she breathed, but wasn't able to really tease much in her state of mind, or lack thereof. Mick growled at the mental image of her bound and helpless, but shook it off. That wasn't what it was about, not what he wanted it to be about. He forced his mouth to be gentle when their lips meshed, knowing that once the mood shifted, he couldn't get it back. He nuzzled her, bringing his body down on hers. One of the advantages of having a vampire mate was that you didn't have to worry about crushing them.

For a minute or so, he held them both like that, electricity dancing along their nerves as skin met skin. He cradled her face in his hands, stroking his thumb along her lip. She drew his thumb in, sucking and licking, her eyes stormy. They both were breathing harshly, although it was a useless practice, born of some unnecessary instinct. He never wanted this to end, but his erection had gone from bordering on painful to actually painful, and he needed relief, needed her.

Slowly, inch by an inch, he made his way inside her, her body's juices lubricating him. They both howled in delight when he was full sheathed, and every atom of Mick screamed at him to pound into her until they both passed out. He gritted his teeth, withstanding the agony of keeping still inside her, especially since the little vixen was squeezing him for all he was worth. "Coraline," he barked.

"Move," she barked back, digging her claws into his back.

"Please, baby, let me do this slow." He forced his tone to soften, and he felt her reluctantly relent. When he was sure he wouldn't fuck her into oblivion, he began to move, taking her mouth, not breaking the kiss once, yet another advantage to mutual vampirism. Their tongues copied the gentle thrusts of their pelvises, dragging out sensation above and below. Coraline had surrendered to the languid lovemaking, caressing him lightly wherever she could, tears slipping from beneath her eyelids, the taste of salt in both their mouths.

"Oh, God," she whimpered into his mouth, as he shifted the angle of his thrusts to directly hit her clit, slow and easy. Her abdomen coiled tightly, her orgasm building, her body tensing in anticipation. She bit his lip with her blunt teeth, too addicted to his mouth to seek his neck, and a few drops of his blood was all it took. It took her sweetly, bliss coursing through her body. Mick went still, fighting to ward off his own release. He wasn't done with her yet.

When he could trust himself not to come, he took her again, keeping the leisurely pace, his body rigid from the effort. Coraline's legs wrapped around his waist, bringing him deeper, their mutual grunts of pleasure barely audible as they'd yet to end their kiss. Her foot rubbed his lower back lovingly, her fingers tangling in his hair to bring his mouth even closer. Their fangs finally elongated, and inevitable drops of blood began to rain down on their tongues, the flavor adding another level of intimacy.

Neither had any idea it lasted, but eventually, even Mick's self-control had its limits. They both whimpered in loss when he disconnected their mouths, his fangs a sudden whisper along her neck. She arched her neck, giving permission. He came, his hips jerking three more erratic times as his release took him. Ever the gentleman, he lowered his fingers to their joined bodies, massaging her exposed nub, bringing his neck to her searching mouth. She penetrated the skin with her fangs, a thin stream of his blood her reward. Another blissful orgasm floated through her system, leaving her dreamy and relaxed.

She sighed, wrapping her arms tightly around him, nuzzling his already healed neck. Absently, she cleaned the slight mess she'd made, reverting back to her human guise. "Get's better ever time," she gasped.

"Yeah, it does," he rumbled back, grumbling in protest when her tongue left his neck. He rolled them over, so she was on top. His eyes were serious as he gazed back up at her, tugging on a curled strand of hair. He noticed she wasn't looking at him, and wondered what his lioness could be avoiding. "Coraline?" he prompted.

"What was that about?" she blurted. "Was that some kind of goodbye?"

"Huh?" He blinked, wondering if he'd ever understand her. "Uh, no. Any reason why it should have been?"

"You've never touched me like that before," she pointed out defensively. "Like I was precious or something. What's the deal?"

"I guess I'm a weird guy, because the woman I love _is_ precious to me." Mick kicked himself for not showing her sooner. With Coraline, it was easy to forget her fierce confidence didn't extend to every aspect of her life. "Look, I love you. I'm happy, and that's with my memory back."

He felt a jolt of surprise crash through her body, her eyes going wide. "What?! How? When?"

"My memory's back," he repeated patiently. "Don't know how, the silver just wore off I guess. And this morning."

"Well?" She demanded, propping herself up on her elbows.

"Well what?"

"Where's the meltdown? Where's the Spanish Inquisition? Where's the third degree? Come on, Mick, I know it's in there. Get it over with." She was trying to play it cool with him, but he saw through the act.

"First of all, _Mr. Night_ gave me the gory details a year ago, so there weren't exactly any big shocks. Second of all, I did my share of the damage too, I can admit that now. No, you weren't some abused little wifey, and me the big, abusive husband, but it takes two to keep make a dysfunctional marriage. And last, but certainly not least, that's long over, Coraline. We've _both_ changed, for the better." Mick's kept his tone firm and his eyes locked on hers, willing her to believe him. "I told you once I wanted to keep making a fresh start, and we've made one. We've built something together, something that counts."

"Are you sure?" Coraline was beginning to relax, but he could still see worrying shimmering in those eyes.

He stroked her face, emotion naked and bare on his face. "I've always loved you, Coraline. We lost our way, big time, and I thought that love was wrong. I pushed it down, downplayed it, and outright lied to myself when I could. But losing my memory helped me understand what I couldn't before, that whether it's wrong or right, it's never going to go away."

"Can't do without your dark side, Mick?" she teased, or tried to, resting her hand against his larger one on her cheek.

"Don't want to." He flashed an unrepentant grin. "I told you once I got the feeling I didn't have enough fun before, and I was right. I was trying to punish myself, I guess. But you made me see I don't have to. I can still do the right thing, and enjoy being a vampire."

"Well, if the straight and narrow makes you happy, we'll keep walking it. As long as we still get to play." She flashed her fangs, wriggling her eyebrows suggestively. Mick laughed and let her attack him.

Two hours later, Coraline was off to photograph a wildfire raging 20 miles outside of LA, although it looked like it was on its way to be under control. Mick was doing some paperwork, when he felt the presence stepping off his elevator. The vampire was young, but extremely strong for her age. She wore an elder vampire's sexual brand and confidence that seemed inbred.

She strolled in his office without knocking, blonde curls cascading down her shoulders, her navy trench coat setting off her fair looks beautifully. "Mrs. Night," he said over a grin, rising to hug her.

She let out a little chuckle, and returned the hug. "I won't be Cassie Night for much longer. Just another week or so."

"So, how's married life treating you?" he joked, settling back to look at her. Over the last year, he'd wonder if seeing Beth would trigger old feelings and new problems, but was relieved to find nothing more than the love of a good friend inside himself. Maybe there was a time it would have been nice, but that ship had sailed, and they'd definitely gone in different directions.

"I'm thinking of getting a divorce," she deadpanned, then flashed a wicked grin. "Josef-whoops, _Ethan_, is a pain in the ass, but I've got used to him all right."

"Still have trouble keeping it straight?" The constant deception and adaptation was a downside of vampirism, that was for sure. "I'd probably have trouble with the change myself. He makes you happy?"

"When he's not making me crazy. Does Coraline make you happy?" The trace of venom on his mate's name didn't go unnoticed.

"Yes, she does…I don't expect you to approve or understand." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "I'm not going to apologize or defend our relationship. You have your reasons for your issues with her, but I have my reasons for loving her."

"She's dangerous, Mick," Beth protested, pursing her lips. "She could turn on you one of these days."

"She could," Mick allowed thoughtfully. "But she won't. Coraline's changed, Beth. I know you don't believe that, and that's okay. But if Coraline wanted to kill me, she's had about a thousand cracks at that, before and after '85. When she came back, it wasn't about revenge. With a lot of vamps, it would have been, but it wasn't with her. She had a chance to leave me an inferno, just like I left her, but she _didn't_."

"What, do you want me to give her a medal?" Beth retorted.

"It might be some good comic relief if you tried." When Beth scowled at him, he held his hands up in surrender. "Thanks for the concern, but the subject's closed."

"Fine," she huffed, crossing her arms. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"Whatever you say. Now, does Josef know you're here?" If Josef was going to change identities soon, there really wasn't a point in getting used to a new name.

"No." She sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I need to talk to someone, and I can't tell him. Part of me loved living in Scotland, but for obvious reasons, he kept me kind of isolated."

Mick studied the emotions drifting off her, but didn't find serious turmoil, or even anxiety. More like indecision. "Tell me, then."

"I'm Sara," she blurted. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to elaborate. "Well, I was. Oh, Mick, in my death sleep I started to remember, and the dreams just got stronger…"

"Are you sure they're your memories? You're bonded closely with Josef…maybe somehow he transmitted echoes of what he remembers into your system somehow." It was rare, but not unheard of.

"I doubt he knew her when she was six," Beth retorted. "No, Mick, I'm sure they're my memories."

"Wow." Mick paused to absorb this, thinking. Often, in cases where people did have past lives, the transformation could trigger awareness. Mick himself had never had such experiences, so obviously this was his one and only run. "Does he know?"

"Nope, and I…I want to keep it that way." Stubborn defiance glittered in those pretty blue eyes. "I don't want it to be about the past, Mick. I want it to be about now, today."

"I understand," Mick answered softly. "But Josef doesn't like being kept out of the loop. He's kind of touchy that way."

"I'll tell him when I'm good and ready," she declared, her chin raising a proud notch. "I know I can trust you, Mick. You won't say anything." No, he wouldn't, but he wondered if she should be irritated she'd pegged him so well. "Anyway, things are good on their own. Maybe he doesn't need to know at all."

"Your call, Beth. It always was." He was about to continue the conversation when he caught a faint whiff of Josef's scent coming their way. A minute later, he was sauntering in the office like he owned the place.

"And I wasn't invited to the reunion because?" he demanded jovially, slapping Mick on the back.

"Well, we can't talk behind your back when you're in the room," Beth countered sweetly.

Josef opened his mouth to make a smart-ass retort, but Mick cut in before they could get into an hour-long bantering session. "So, I hear Mr. and Mrs. Night are going by the wayside soon?"

"I've got something more permanent lined up, yes." Josef smiled craftily. "Beth wants to go back to using her first name, but I think she should use some other form of Elizabeth."

"'Beth isn't that unique of a name," the woman in question protested. "With the right last name, no one's gonna think anything."

"I concede the point _reluctantly_, but living in LA is out," Josef informed her. "These days, once something's on the net, once it's loaded, you can't kill it. Anyone can access your video clips ten years from now. We're staying in Europe." He turned to Mick, ignoring Beth's icy stare. "You and Coraline should consider a new scene. It's amazing your cover hasn't been blown, the same name, same trade, same place."

"We've been talking about that," Mick said neutrally. "Thinking of going back to Charles? We could call you Chuck," he volunteered evilly.

Josef rolled his eyes. "Try it, St. John, just try it. I've been meaning to break in some new stakes." The group fell into a lively discussion, and it was only an hour later that the unexpected guests hit the road.

"I'll be along in a minute," Josef told Beth, gently nudging her out the door.

She grumbled under her breath, shaking off his hand. "Bye, Mick. We'll see you before we leave."

"Take care, Beth." He gave her one last hug, and a warm smile. He walked her to the elevator, waving as the doors closed. He turned back to Josef, wondering what was on his buddy's mind.

Josef cocked his head, studying his old friend. "No hard feelings?"

"No reason why there should be. Everybody got what they wanted in the long run, I think." It was Mick's turn to study Josef. "You love her?"

"No," Josef answered honestly, as was his habit. "Close, though. I could see myself falling for that one."

"Congratulations." Mick had to fight back a knowing grin, since Josef was about to connect to the same soul twice, and didn't have a clue.

"Love isn't something to congratulate an unfortunate soul about," Josef retorted moodily. "I believe condolences are in order."

Mick snickered, shaking his head. "You never change, do you?"

"Oh, sometimes." Josef's voice turned wistful. "Be seeing you Mick." He pressed the button for the elevator, looking pensive as the doors blocked him from the younger vampire's sight.

The End!


End file.
